


Polarity

by queen-reekoo (siffy)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blind Character, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Hiding Medical Issues, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Jargon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siffy/pseuds/queen-reekoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soldier 76's curiosity gets the better of him, running into more trouble than he originally planned for. He spirals into involvement with Reaper's life, the two intertwined in their fates once more. The truth of Overwatch comes to his attention, and he learns what had happened to cause Gabriel Reyes's betrayal, the loss of control in his abilities, and Jack Morrison's own plummeting health and well-being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Was originally uploaded on Tumblr and then uploaded onto Ao3 after many requests. The ideas came from a series of role plays and headcanons from me and my friend, and snowballed from there.

He’d come too late.

 

Stepping over the broken glass from the smashed tableware and wine glasses from the dinner table, splintered wood jutting out and scattered all over the hardwood floor, Soldier 76 moved carefully through the house. Having heard the explosions from guns going off and the shouts from the petrified occupants, he’d moved in quickly. From the obvious mess in the house, he hadn’t come soon enough. Just a few precious moments too late...

 

It was a brief stop from his objective; the next town over, where former Blackwatch agents resided. They’d have information he’d wanted, the soldier had assumed. He’d needed to restock, exhausted from constantly being on the move, and paused his tireless trek in the little town. His body was weary, worn, no longer used to this constant running and movement from one place to the other. No, he wasn’t meant to be on the run. This wasn’t his life.

 

At least he was relieved he did decide to stop, for he wouldn’t have discovered the trouble that had fallen upon this home. Was it relief? He could have continued walking, to avoid any sort of problems that this would possibly arise -- what if they had recognized his outfit from the news or the internet? Not exactly known for his good deeds in this lifetime, all he could do was sneak and slip into the shadows, doing what he believed needed to be done for his own selfish goals. The prospect of this community having no necessity to him in his goals almost stirred him to keep walking...if he was found out...He’d be a dead man walking(as if he already was; he’d be shot dead one day).

 

That problem wouldn’t be a concern anymore, he realized bitterly at the icy silence that had suddenly taken over the house. He moved quietly, gripping his rifle tightly in his gloved hands, his boots thumping lightly on the floor as he crossed the house. The damage to the house had been done with such ferocity--tables and chairs broken, holes in the walls, wallpaper tearing, and pictures that had at once been hanging from the hoods in the walls were now on the floor in pieces.

 

Curiosity got the best of the old man, and he stepped into the bedroom once he had reached it, peering in. The bedroom itself was quite small, and surprisingly untouched by the damage, despite the door blown clean off its hinges. Had they run in here to try to fend off the attacker, only for him to literally break in? Stepping over a fallen scarf and a music box that had slipped off the vanity, he blinked, only to pause.

 

The sight of the two bodies of the elderly man and women sprawled out over the covers did not phase him, and he merely blink behind his mask, still gripping on tight to his rifle. 

 

What had shocked him was the sudden reek in the room, a rank, stifling smell of death and decay that not even his mask could get rid of. 

 

He shook his head quickly a few times to try to rid of the stench, slowly stepping into the bedroom. It only seemed to get stronger as he approached the mattress, and he glanced down at the woman face down on the bed, her legs dangling off uselessly.

 

The rot was spilling deep into the covers and sheets, their bodies swollen and gray as if corpses that had time to incubate in the heat for months. It was as if all the life had been drained from their bodies, their faces open wide and frozen in petrification of fear. Deep gashes in their stomachs from point blank range startled 76 for a moment; the pure violence of it all catching the hardened Soldier off guard.

 

How could this much decay be evident? He had heard the screams of death only moments ago, yet these body had been laying here rotting for months. At least, thats how it appeared...but of course, he’d learned enough in his years that nothing was as it appeared. The information didn’t add up to a logical conclusion, leaving him speechless.

 

The smell only seemed to worsen, and the soldier shook his head, backing out of the room slowly. There was little he could do now for them. He was too slow, too late to intervene in their deaths. A dull ache resided in his chest as he turned quickly, a familiar guilt turned over and clawed at his heart and lungs. Death never went over well for him, despite surrounding himself with death in his career with the military, and even now, more consistently, as a vigilante. Even the damn stench didn’t go over well for him.

 

All he could do now was to quickly leave. His curiosity still bit at him, but he couldn’t afford to stay in one place for too long. No...he wasn’t finished yet. This dog wasn’t done with his duties just yet. Unfortunately, these people would have to remain until neighbors found them. With all that noise and screaming, surely some sort of cops would be rushing soon. He needed to leave, now. Having him standing in the destroyed house of two dead occupants holding a rifle wouldn’t do good for him.

 

Stepping back out into the hall, he raised his rifle, heart thumping in his chest as he quickly remembered the possibility that he may not still be alone. No...he hadn’t caught sight of the potential attacker. He moved swiftly towards the front door, eyes scanning for any movement present still within the house. Pressing his back to the wall and sliding along carefully, he looked around, before cutting across the corner and locking his sight on the door.

 

The cause of this destruction was indeed still in this house, he had to assume. He’d rushed in after the sounds had died down--the assailant couldn’t have left that soon. However that damage had happened, this man was either someone who did not have all the screws in, or a skilled killer. Despite the wild nature of the wounds, it was done precisely, and from the expression on their faces, suddenly. 

 

76 paused, however, his eyes trained upon the door. The confirmation of his former fears sent dread in his spine, the door closed despite remember the coolness of the nighttime air on the back of his neck as he entered the house with the door spread wide open. His steps stopped, staring at the door, blinking tears out of his eyes when the rank aroma of death seeped into his mask and assaulted his nose.

 

Shaking his head, he slowly moved, taking small, calculated steps towards the entrance, both hands remaining on his gun. A thin layer of dust remained in the house as he passed through it, as if it were floating through like a fog. He crossed the hallway, then stepped forward to the door, extending an arm towards the doorknob.

 

_ Just leave this behind, Jack. You can’t save everyone--just focus on saving yourself for now. _

 

His fingers brushed against the doorknob, taking the last few steps--

 

“Boo.”

 

Sharp points of metal dragged along down his shoulders and pricked at the vertebrae of his spine, a dark cackle muffled by a mask echoing through the empty house. The reek of decay continued to swallow him up, smothering what little air he had left in the mask. It choked him, and for once he wanted to remove the damn mask and try to take a deep gulp of fresh air.

 

Whirling around quickly, the rifle was used quickly as a blunt weapon, aimed to smash against the other man’s head. He spun on his heels, gritting his teeth and snarling, only to get a burst of dust and smoke in his face. His vision was blinded, and he stepped back quickly, the momentum from his spinning strike sending him off his balance. Quickly he regained his stance, his finger resting against the trigger of his gun as he tried to locate the... _ thing _ that had touched him.

 

All around him was that familiar black smoke from earlier, but this time, it seemed to be moving, wafting around the house, moving as if it were a snake. A tunnel of the black gas, and Soldier stepped back when it began to take shape before him. The formation of a human being, a ghoulish white mask forming, and Soldier’s eyes narrowed and focused on the black slits that became present.

 

What the hell was this?

 

His body was...dissolving and reforming with ease, giving off a terrifying black smog. The more he produced, the worse the smell of death got, as if he were rotting and healing himself instantly. It was dizzying, his eyes trained on his limbs as they gained form through the thick black cloud, becoming hands and feet once more.

 

It was like nothing he’d ever seen before. The smell wafting from his form was overwhelming, similar to the destroyed bodies in the bedroom, and he held his rifle tightly in self defense. A strange inkling of fear of the unknown seeped into his heart, and he swallowed sharply in an attempt to stifle those emotions, slowly backing up to gain more distance between himself and this strange creature.

 

The rumbling laugh erupting from that white mask on the man’s face sent ominous chills down his spine, his finger twitching against the trigger. Eyes tracing the man’s features underneath the black coat, the dual pistols in the ready in his grasp...ah. It was apparent, at least, who was the cause for the destruction of the house and the death in the room over.

 

But what of the decomposition and the reeking smell of it occupying every inch of the living space? If this was the man that committed such a slaughter only just recently, how had this happened?

 

His attention was snapped back to the man, gritting his teeth beneath the mask when the man’s pistols were raised towards his face, a sneer coming from the opposing being across from him. Gripping his gun tightly, he slowly shifted his weight, holding his breath as the other craned his neck to the side, the resounding cracks echoing in the silent room.

 

His body completely reformed, dressed in black, ammunition clad on his body. He stood tall, broad shouldered, heavy boots taking a step closer to the soldier across from him, ignoring the threatening wave of the rifle that was aimed in his direction.

 

“You’re like a modern day Captain America in that get up. Dressed in red, white, and blue, like the American flag just vomited all over you.”

 

The chuckle was dark, condescending, head tilting a bit and bobbing slightly as he talked, waving his guns around with frank gestures. 

 

“You some sort of vigilante, or something? I’ve seen you. You’ve been stepping on my feet lately, getting in the way of my objectives. Stepping past my men. Creeping around, sticking your nose in business where it shouldn’t have been.”

 

A roll of his shoulders.

 

“What do they call you? Soldier 76? That’s really cute. You really are a modern day Captain America. Where’s your shield, buddy? How you gonna defend yourself?”

 

That garbled voice filtered by the mask leaked out, mocking him with ever dripping poison that left his lips. The malice was evident in the confidence he carried himself with, the power in his stance, the grip of his guns, and the slimey tone of voice. A predator still high on the kill, eager to sink his teeth into another morsel of prey.

 

With a blast, the rifle went off, firing towards the man opposing the soldier. It clearly caught him off guard, sending the black cloaked man stumbling back. Moving quickly, 76 raised his rifle to bash it against the other man, aiming for the masked face.

 

The pistols were raised before 76 could make contact, shooting him sharply in the stomach. The bullets broke apart when they left the barrel, the pellets digging into his skin and causing his flesh to feel as if it were on fire. A shout was heard, falling backwards from the sudden pain he felt, from the sheer shock of the situation.

 

Soldier fell hard on his back, recoiling from the blow, gripping his rifle tightly. He was sprawled out, teeth gnashed together as he forced his eyes open to stare beneath the red optical lense, chest rising and falling quickly. The panic in his heart reverberated in his core, and he attempted to scramble to his feet and ignore the searing pain from the sudden shots. It was feeble, however, not able to move fast enough when he felt the other’s heavy boot smash down onto his ribcage.

 

_ Damn his old age…! _

 

The rumbling laugh that echoed in that chest was familiar, white mask peering down at him. It was a cool grip that clenched at his heart, one that he could not recognize. Swirling deep in his belly, one of severe anxiety, fear, and confusion. Was he to be struck down so easily? Had he grown so old he no longer had any of the skills that propelled him to be Commander of Overwatch?

 

Just as he stared at the face of the pistol, he grabbed enough strength to suddenly whip his own rifle around once more, firing point blank at the target. The white mask shattered, and a shout was heard, the Reaper stumbling back. Pieces of the mask went flying, scattering across the floor in the rest of the rubble.

 

It was enough of a pause to scramble back to his feet, gripping his stomach tightly as he clambered to the wall for support. The last of the pictures fell with a crack, his hands clawing into the wallpaper as he heaved himself to his feet, staggering. Fumbling, he turned back to the man, his Helix Rockets loaded and ready to fire--

 

Until he paused, eyes locking with the man.

 

His heart seemed to stop, suspended in his chest as he lowered his rifle, holding his breath tightly. Suddenly weak in the bones, he was weary, exhausted, just at the sight of the man, his will to fight completely void. Disbelief filled his veins, slowly shaking his head, a dull ringing in the back of his skull. Gnawing memories of his time in the army, of joining Overwatch, of becoming the Commander--

 

“...G-Gabriel…?”

 

The dark skinned man before him groaned softly, his clawed gloves rubbing at his face, the force of the blast still sending him reeling. He winced a moment, before taking a small stagger back, dark eyes blinking open to stare at the other.

 

He hadn't changed a bit. Minus a few new scars cutting into his flesh he couldn't recognize, the other was the same as he remembered. His closest companion, his dear friend, his partner, his…

 

“...how...how did you survive the blast?”

 

Nothing made sense anymore. Too many thoughts rushed past his brain and assaulted his attention. The stream of consciousness was faltering, his memory failing him a moment. How on earth did the man survive the bomb in the Swiss headquarters? Hadn't he been the only one? Why did the other reek of death? How could he manipulate his body in such a way…?

 

The animalistic growl from Gabriel snapped him out of his train of thought, and he gaped, watching as the other charged for him. Moving with an ‘act first, think later’ mindset, the soldier moved quickly, firing off his Helix Rocket upon brutal instinct. It hasn't worked as intended, he realized, when the man dissolved instantly before they could make contact, reforming in front of him, his momentum carrying through. Smashing into the soldier with his full weight, Gabriel pinned him into the wall before he could react, a dark, condescending chuckle breaking past his lips.

 

“Who let the old man out of the damn nursing home?” he cooed. “You shouldn’t ask questions you’re not prepared for the answer for, old timer.”

 

One of the sharp points of his gloves touched the man’s forehead, tracing the scar that cut across his flesh. That low snicker was heard once more, dragging his fingers down to cup the front of his face, gripping the mask that covered him in a tight grip. His eyes were filled with malice, despair, and rage for bringing up events from so long ago, his fingers curling into the lip of the plate.

The soldier couldn’t move very well, Gabriel’s knee in his stomach, his other hand pressed firmly against the arm holding the rifle. No matter how he moved, he couldn’t snap the rifle up to fire; even despite the physical limitations placed upon him, he couldn’t will himself to fire at him anyways, staring face to face with his long lost friend.

 

The mask was suddenly snapped off before he could retort, the red lenses removed from his gaze. His eyes widened, his breath clutched tightly in his lungs, Gabriel staring deep into his face. The man seemed to freeze, his hot breath puffing into his face, seeming to quicken in pace.

 

“You...Jack...what the hell--!?”

 

A sharp swallow, the old man staring at his old companion. His body remained still, frozen, almost, that breath still gripping tightly to his ribcage. Teeth gnashing together, he stared at the other, eyes unwavering as he took in the other’s appearance. But of course, he could see nothing. It was what he should have expected--ever since that blast, his vision had been destroyed, leaving him nearly blind.

 

Squinting ever so slightly, his lips tightened in a straight line, his eyes struggling to focus. The hand snatched out, grasping onto his cheeks, the metal points digging into his skin and tracing the deep scars cutting across his flesh. A soft snarl left his lips, grimacing a bit, his fierce expression not wavering despite the claws scratching up his skin ever so slightly.

 

He could feel and hear the harsh breathing, Gabriel shaking slightly. That anger bubbled within him, erupting in a roar.

 

“You should be goddamn dead! Why the hell are you here?! What the goddamn fuck--!”

 

Blood was drawn, from both his face and his arm, and he winced a bit. He tried to hold that breath into his chest, to not release it, the tightness welling up even deeper.

 

“You should be dead, Jack.”

 

“So should you, Gabriel. You were in that building too--”

 

“Shut the fuck up!”

 

The hand was raised briefly, only to smash back against his cheek, his palm making contact. His head snapped back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. Vision spinning and struggling to see even more despite the struggle, he blinked quickly, looking back at him with narrowed eyes and gnashed teeth.

 

“Gabriel--”

 

“You don’t get it, Jack.” Gabriel challenged, tilting his head a bit. The hand cupped his face, their noses almost touching as Gabriel leaned forward, their chests brushing together. “Why the hell are you alive? Is Overwatch just determined to fuck with me every goddamn day, that their damn little lap dog lives to see another day? You were supposed to be dead. I made sure you were in the goddamn radius, so why the hell did you survive? After all I made sure you were six feet in the ground, and yet you’re right fucking here…!”

 

“...what…?”

 

Disbelief laced Jack’s words, the pieces falling together, and he tried to snap his hand up again, the free hand pressing hard against Gabriel’s torso. But the other did not move, his hand falling through a dissolved being, and he gasped as the feeling of smog biting his hand and arm caused him to snatch his arm back to his side.

 

This wasn’t the reunion that he had planned. Oh, the joy that had welled in his being, was dissipating into one of fear and pure confusion at the brutal and bitter greeting he had received. The anger upon Gabriel was thick, brutal, enough to choke a man just by his mere presence. Despite living to see another day, his once beloved partner was determined to make sure that this would be his last day.

 

There was malice in the other’s form, the way he gripped him, the way he prevented his movement. It was one of possession, to strike fear into his core, and destroy him. The words dripped with poison, those claws tearing into flesh--

 

He felt claustrophobic all of a sudden, desperate for air--!

 

That laugh snapped him out of his trance, Jack’s eyes widened when the other shook the hand holding his chin carefully. His pointer finger tapped against his cheekbone, just under his eyelid.

 

“Are you fucking stupid, Jack? You gonna keep staring at me like I just drowned your goldfish? You always had that stupid look on your face. You never did pick up things right away, did you?”

 

A mocking tone, suddenly, a high pitched, squealing laughter.

 

“A poor little farm boy who didn’t know his ass from his elbow! Taking the name Soldier 76, like some damn vigilante! It’s so cute, Jack. So damn cute, almost makes me glad you survived. Almost.”

 

“Gabriel--”

 

“No, no.” he shushed him, cooing softly, pressing his forehead against the other. “Shh...don’t speak. Or I’ll cut your tongue out.”

 

Tapping his nose now, he hummed softly, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, purring ever so gently.

 

“You should’ve been dead. Have you not figured it out yet? I’ve seen you. I’m not stupid. Never thought that Soldier: 76 would be the dead Jack Morrison. Awfully cute. What are you after? The ones that destroyed your perfect little life?”

 

A snicker, his tongue flicking out, only to snap back when Jack snarled dangerously, a silent threat to bite if he was cornered even more.

 

“You’ve been stepping in my plans the past few weeks, haven’t you? I’ve seen an old man lurking around whenever I tried to step in and do my job. Getting involved when I’m just doing an honest man’s work, and trying to put a bullet in someone’s head. You’re becoming a nuisance. You got nothing better to do? Stopped licking Overwatch’s asshole for three seconds to realize what they’re really up to?”

 

Jack’s brow furrowed, but he did not speak, did not turn his head away when Gabriel nuzzled into the side of his face, humming gently.

 

“You should’ve burned up there, Jack. Burned with the rest of them. Burned in goddamn hell. Then we wouldn’t have been here. It’s a shame.”

 

He clicked his tongue, pulling back to stare at Jack, tilting his head slightly. An amused look crossed his features, snickering softly as the other opened his mouth to finally speak, a desperate hiss leaving the soldier’s lips.

 

“You...it was you? Gabriel?”

 

There was disbelief, a refusal to understand the words thrown maliciously towards him.

 

“You don’t fucking get it, do you? It was me, Jack. Do I need to spell it out for you? Are you that stupid?” he shook his head with a sneer. “And before you give me this bullshit of ‘after everything Overwatch did for you’, just stop, and remember who Overwatch did shit for. You. Not me. Of course you don’t get it.”

 

He shook his head with a soft sigh, resting his head against him once more, their lips brushing together as he spoke.

 

“We’ve been bumping into each other whenever we both want someone from Overwatch’s head on a platter. Isn’t that true, sweetheart?”

 

“Gabriel--” was the soft wheeze heard, shaking his head slowly. He blinked sadly up at him, the aggression and the rage from so many years dwindling into a small ember. His body dragged, feeling so weak, feeble. So many years of feeling anger, and held here, pinned by the man he had lived in his youth, left him broken and frustrated. A desperate need for information, to know what had happened, took over, and he swallowed harshly. “...why?”

 

“Hush.” he snapped, pressing his lips against him suddenly. Maybe the other lost the anger and rage upon seeing him alive, but no. Not him. The fire returned, rekindled into a burning blaze at the sight of his partner. He could feel Jack twitch against him, feebly trying to fight him off, but falling victim to his loneliness and depression for so many years, clinging to an old familiarity and comfort. The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was brutal, teeth smashing together and his body keeping him pinned to the wall, his spine rolling against him. It wasn’t romantic; it was a sudden force of power, to demean the other and reinforce who was in control in the situation, who was in charge, and who would remain in demand of authority.

 

Tearing his mouth away, Gabriel took a loud gulp of air, Jack himself coughing and breathing harshly. Gnashing teeth together, he stared at the other, betrayal crossing his gaze. The taste of the other still nipped at his tongue, and he shook his head slowly, his mind racing rather frantically. 

 

“After everything we did together, you just, threw it all away?” he finally whispered out. “We were partners, soldiers in arms, lovers--?! And you were the one that destroyed it all…? Does none of our past mean anything to you? Gabriel!”

 

“I said shut up.” Was the sheer that was heard, a breathy snarl leaving his lips. “I worked my whole goddamn life for that position, and you fucking stole it from me! You deserved to die!”

 

When had his grip on the gun slackened? Jack realized too late when the rifle was suddenly snatched from his grip, his eyes widening when he saw the shape come into his view, raised high above their heads.

 

“Gabri--”

 

The stock of the gun was smashed against his temple with such anger, such ferocity. It was a crushing blow, the man’s consciousness fading instantly, and he fell forward against the other man. The blow left him vulnerable, at the other’s will.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack wakes up in Gabriel's hold, unable to defend himself or make a move to escape.

When Reaper would roam the old slaughterhouse, he’d find bones. Long, white bones, dried of blood from weathering, neglected conditions, would be released by the chains that once held victims, or stuck in the hungry saws and blades that tore apart flesh. He’d run his fingers along the surface, touching points or where the marrow had been smashed, seeming to trace the history of the animal it once belonged to. The bones would always catch his attention, the contours and streaks fitting right against his fingertips.

 

Bones told stories. Stories of cattle being ripped apart to be consumed, packaged and sold to food stores around the country. Stories of the pain cattle experience, shoved into tiny holding facilities, dying beside their companions. Stories of tragedy and sadness, of their lives knowing only pain, of their future of self destruction.

 

He couldn’t explain his emotions, how he would find the bones when he wandered the warehouse, drumming his fingers against their white surfaces, before gently removing them from the building and depositing them in the dirt a few yards away. Maybe it was some sort of warped respect for the dead. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the sight of seeing the bones abandoned in the metal death traps within the establishment sent a strange chill in his chest, one he couldn’t shake away. He’d dig little holes, then bury them, little piles of dirt visible in the grass that was close to where the earth met the concrete.

 

Death was no strange concept to him. It was what he surrounded himself with daily. But there was a certain discomfort that would settle in his chest, the carnage left abandoned in the old meat packing district. The reek would not leave the walls, clinging to everything and anything. Everything was left in its place--chains with hooks hanging, slick and greasy with dried body fluids, rotating saws chipped and cracked and tainted, and rotting flesh still lurking in the corners and sides of the room. 

 

He felt a kinship with the deceased cows, Reaper had realized after a few trips roaming around the district. Maybe that was why he kept returning, time after time, and had set up a temporary base within the walls. Packed together, lined up for death, knowing that he would never have a life once the war was over...the animals had died without knowing their true potential.

 

He roamed, but did not have a soul any longer in his ribcage. Killed long ago within the care of Overwatch, he sympathized with the fallen cattle, and would quietly bury their bones whenever he stumbled upon them. A makeshift burial for them, he mused.

 

Killing was what he did without remorse. Humans were conscious of their actions, and had complete control over what they did, and how they did it. But animals were victims to the cruel tide of humanity, crushed under their will and their desires. Maybe that was why he felt for the dead cows that had walked down these halls. Having little say, and future swiped away...yes...it was understanding.

 

Maybe that was why he brought Jack here.

 

His thoughts had been...fuzzy, wrought with confusion in the past months. Years? Time had become but a blur, unsure of what was coming or going. Hell, he couldn’t remember the reasons why he had dragged the unconscious man onto his shoulders, holding him in a fireman’s carry as he hefted him back to the building. Nothing made sense anymore, his train of thought falling clear off a cliff. All he was aware of was the heavy weight of the man against his shoulders and his heavy breathing against his skin.

 

What the hell was he going to even do with this man?

 

He hadn’t thought this through, Reaper realized with a mutter, kicking open the door to the warehouse. The disgusting smell did not seem to phase him, of old, rotting carcasses and of diseased rats living comfortably in the abandoned warehouse. But ah, what was he going to do with his former companion? Throw him in the back room and leave him there to rot? Maybe let the rats chew through his toes?

 

He grunted softly, grip tightening around the man’s thigh and arm, able to feel the gentle expansion and deflation of the man’s chest against him. The claws of his gloves tapped against his flesh, pressing against the thick fabric of his pants and jacket. Boots thumping against the filthy ground, he walked down the span of the building, heading towards the back. Kicking down the last door, he stumbled into the last room.

 

Chains with hooks hung from the ceiling, where cattle had once been attached to to tear them apart and rip flesh from bone. Slick with slime from bodily fluids, they shone in the dim light from the windows, swaying gently from a drafty breeze slipping into the room. Against the wall stood a metal chair beside a metal table, and Reaper moved to stand before the set.

 

Grunting, he readjusted himself, before slowly lowering the soldier to sit upon the chair. He plopped him down, and slowly stood up again, groaning softly as he rolled his shoulders, wincing at the cracking sound that was heard. Slowly, he craned his neck back and forth, hearing the satisfying cracks as he licked his lips carefully. Giving a quiet sniff, he stared back down at the unconscious man in the chair.

 

“Didn’t know bringing home strays was part of the plan, chief.”

 

He paused, lifting his head and turning towards the door. His brow furrowed at the sight of McCree, and he snorted softly, turning back and focusing on his mission, turning back to the chains suspended from the ceiling. With a grunt, his gloved hands snatched onto one of them, yanking onto it with a heave. It trembled, before crashing into his waiting arms. The greasy metal was hoisted up, and dragged back to where the Soldier waited unconscious.

 

McCree watched him with a blank stare, taking a deep drag of his cigar, the smoke wafting up to the ceiling. He made no move to filter out the rank smell of death and rotten flesh, only wrinkling his nose for a moment in surprise, before shaking his head, strolling over to the other. Licking his lips very quietly, he looked over at the man slumped over on the chair, brow furrowing in recognition.

 

“Gabriel--”

 

“Shut up.”

 

McCree’s lips tightened in a fine line, scowling ever so slightly. His gaze drifted over to the man he had known for so many years, arms crossing against his chest. A soft exhale, and he shook his head slowly, watching as the other man worked, managing to find some old, rotting rope. Seeming satisfied with it, Reaper returned to the old man’s side, tying up his hands securely with the stinking rope, and moving to wrap the chain around his chest to pin him to the back of the chair.

 

McCree watched as the other worked, securing the unconscious man into the chair, tightening his restraints to prevent him from leaving. His head tilted ever so slightly, staring into his face, brow furrowing at the familiar features. That jawbone, those contours of his cheeks, even that messy, snow white hair…

 

“Where the hell did you find Jack Morrison alive?”

 

Gabriel paused, glancing back at the other, his eyes cold and dark. Slowly, he stood up straight once more, crossing his arms with a sneer, his mask concealing his emotions. A silence overtook him as he stared at the other, before giving a gentle shrug.

 

“Somewhere. Does it matter? He’s here now.” Gabriel snorted, looking back down at the other once more, before blinking back at McCree. “Speaking of which...why the hell are you here? You finished your mission already? We were planning on meeting somewhere else. I can’t deal with your damn complaining over the smell every five minutes--.”

 

“Yep. Easy as pie, decided to come on over and surprise you with the good news. Spooked em real good, got all the information I needed.” McCree snickered softly, giving a shrug and resting his human hand against his hip, tilting his head at the other. “Got done in record time too. Had em running like damn dogs.”

 

“Good. That’ll be useful later--” Gabriel nodded once more, looking back at the unconscious prisoner once more. A sad smile twitched at his lips from underneath the mask, tracing the two scars that tore across his face with his gaze, before giving a soft snort. Still he could taste the man on his lips, the anger that he had felt wilting away. He felt...tired. Years dragged upon him, and he shook his head slowly.

 

“What the hell are you going to do with him?” McCree sneered, catching Gabriel's attention once more. His eyes were narrowed, giving an indignant sniff. “No, I’m serious--you found Jack Morrison, alive, no less, and now you got him tied up to a chair in a room stinking worse than a stable full of horses with the runs. You just gonna keep him there? Look at him all day? Can’t keep your grubby little hands off of him--”

 

“That’s enough!” Gabriel snapped, snarling dangerously, his temper flaring, if only briefly. “I have the former commander of Overwatch, like hell am I going to just let him wander off. Do you realize what we have here? We can use this as leverage--somehow. He’s too valuable to just release him. So he’s staying here.”

 

“That so?” McCree smirked after a moment, tilting his head. “We got ourselves the former big bug, and you’re gonna keep him all nice and cozy up in here. That really all you kept him for? The great ol’ assassin Gabriel Reyes, keeping a hostage, instead of just blowing his brains out along the floor like every damn person that looked at you wrong?”

 

He snickered softly, amused by the sudden stiffness that had taken over the other man. “Please. You don’t think I remember how you two always looked at each other before ya blew up the damn building? Ya sure this aint just some old emotions brewing and bubbling up in ya, boss? Haven’t seen you like this in years.”

 

“McCree--” Gabriel snapped, snarling softly, his temper rising once more. He stood a threatening step towards him, before shaking his head in defeat. No...it wasn’t worth it.

 

A pause, the sound of the man stirring catching his attention, both men craning their necks to see. Jack groaned softly, his brow furrowing, until his head rolled back, a soft gasping sound as he opened his eyes. The man winced a moment, groaning softly, his face twisting up in pain, the dizziness washing over him, head feeling as if there was a jackhammer to it.

 

Breathing harshly, his teeth gnashed together, Gabriel waiting patiently, kneading his hands together as he watched him. The man shifted his weight, groaning softly as he struggled to focus upon the environment he had woken up in, finally able to lift his head to blink heavily at the two men across from him. His unfocused gaze stared at them, and he coughed, trying to roll his shoulders and adjust himself, only to freeze up at the chain cutting into him and the rope tied tight around his wrists. The reek of the room hit him, his nose scrunching up, blinking tears out of his eyes at the stank aroma.

 

“Look who finally woke up.” McCree laughed softly, tipping his hat back with a grin. “Ha...should see the look on your face. Like ya got a brick in yer hat.”

 

Watching Jack’s brow furrow for a moment in mild confusion made the cowboy laugh in pure glee, snickering at his own jokes. Gabriel didn’t make the same noises of amusement as his partner did, instead focusing intently on the other’s face, watching as he slowly began to snap himself awake, his vision swimming and his attention wavering from the severe blow to his head.

 

“I’m going to smash a brick against your own goddamn hat if you don’t shut your goddamn mouth--!” Gabriel snarled like a dangerous animal, hissing quietly before turning to look back at Jack, a soft coo leaving his lips. He smirked in amusement as the man’s eyes narrowed in his direction, body stiffening up.

 

“Good morning sunshine.” Gabriel tilted his head, smiling wide beneath the mask, and he snickered softly, suddenly lashing out and snatching up the man’s face. The claws on his gauntlets dug into his flesh slightly, and he took absolute joy and pleasure in the minor since that crossed the other man’s features, the two scars cutting across his face wrinkling. Trying to yank his head away, Gabriel only squeezed tighter, cupping his chin, his other hand dragging through his hair slowly, methodically.

 

“I hope you slept well, sweetheart--”

 

“Unhand me, Gabriel.” Jack interjected with a snarl. His eyes narrowed, struggling to focus on him, staring through the mask where he knew his eyes were. “This instance. I don't know why the hell you have me here, but I'm of no use to you anymore. Overwatch is dead--”

 

“As it should be!” Was the bark heard, smashing his head back against the chair, causing him to gasp when the waves of pain returned. His mouth opened wide, taking in desperate gulps of air, his eyes opening and closing quickly. Struggling to regain focus, he breathed quickly, lifting his head to watch the other pace back and forth, like a predator sizing up his prey.

 

He finally stopped in front of him, leaning forward, the white of the mask sending strange emotions into Jack’s chest, and he swallowed sharply. Tilting his head a bit, he sneered, cupping his face once more to make sure that he looked at him.

 

“Overwatch deserved to perish. You don’t know half of what that company did. All the bullshit experiments, all those missions that involved hurting innocent people, all their agendas...you don’t even know the half of it.”

 

Jack merely sniffed at the other, his eyes narrowing in disgust.

 

“Remember what Overwatch did for you, Gabriel…” He whispered softly, a desperation in his voice. “Please. I remember the old Gabriel. He wouldn't do this, he was--”

 

“He's dead, Jack!”

 

His head was forcefully shoved back, Jack giving a gasp, only to freeze up, breath caught in his throat when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his temple. The bellow of the man sounded from the walls, hand holding the gun trembling slightly.

 

“Gabriel died a long time ago! Overwatch killed him! You call me Gabriel again I’ll blow your damn brains out…!”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Jack's voice was even, steady, his expression not wavering. No...if the other truly wanted him dead, he would have killed him back there. Not taken him hostage. Not kissed him. He knew that, and Gabriel knew that. He couldn't kill him, not after reuniting with him after so long.

 

His finger twitched against the trigger, struggling to force himself to fire, only to pause when McCree stepped into his line of vision, a fierce look in his face.

 

“That's enough.” He spat. “Listen. I’m not going to let you do something stupid just cause he's riling you up. If you really want him, I won't let him kill you just cause you got your panties in a bunch.”

 

Gabriel’s gaze remained even with the man, and they both snorted in disdain.

 

“Got it?”

 

The gun was pulled away from Jack’s face, giving the man room to breath, an exhale of relief leaving his lips, sinking down slightly in his chair. Gabriel placed the gun back in his trench coat, his gaze not leaving Jack’s eyes, before he snapped his attention back to McCree.

 

“You're not in charge.”

 

“Well someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

 

He teasingly punched the other man’s arm, snorting when the other did not seem amused. Slowly, he rolled his shoulders in a shrug, cleaning his teeth with his tongue. Head tilting slightly, he gave a snort, raising his hands in surrender, before sliding them to adjust the belt around his waist and slipping his fingers into his pocket. The air around them was heavy, suffocating with the reek of rotting carcasses, and he began to back up towards the door.

 

It reminded Jack of two wolves. Two able bodied, magnificent predators. A subordinate snapping its jaws at its pack leader in distaste, not trusting his judgement over a choice of prey. Perhaps pick something else, something without any sort of prior meaning? Ah, but maybe he should not have spoken up, after all. It wasn't his place.

 

“Y’know,” McCree clicked his tongue, pressing his palm against the front door, eyes focused upon Reaper. “Ultimately your choice if you wanna bed em down or not. Run wild if you do. I won't stand in yer way.”

 

With that, he stepped out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him, Gabriel reeling from his words.

 

Snarling, he shook his head, ripping off his mask and taking a deep breath. Damn. He needed air. Throwing the mask to the ground, he ran his fingers through his short hair, shaking his head quickly.

 

“Fucking teasing me to bed him down...fucking cocky bastard...should shoot him in the mouth--”

 

The laughter from the restrained man caught him off guard, and he startled, turning around sharply to face him, scowling at the wide grin that had settled upon his face.

 

“The fuck you laughing at, Morrison?”

 

“You.” was the snickering response, grinning even wider, his eyes alight with amusement. “You haven't changed a bit, have you Gabe? Still can't understand slang for the life of you. Still cute as shit, you in that California mindset.”

 

“You mean you understand what the hell he was saying?” He sneered, eyes narrowing at the shrug from the other man.

 

“He didn't mean to--” a pause, and he laughed once more, still incredibly entertained by what was occurring before his eyes. With a shake of his head, he snickered. “Nah. I think I'll keep that one a mystery.”

 

Gabriel’s eyes rolled, and he slowly moved towards Jack, his steps heavy and methodical. He licked his lips carefully, tilting his head, eyes tracing the other’s features. The scars cutting across his face, those deep blue eyes he had found himself staring in as a young man, the gentle smirk of his lips that he’d kissed over and over, the wrinkles that had appeared near his eyes and his mouth…

 

His clawed gauntlet rested suddenly against the other’s restrained hands, tapping lightly against his fingers. Blinking slowly, he gave a small snort, shaking his head slowly.

 

“You never change, do you, Jack?” a snicker. “You look like an old timer now, Jack. What the hell happened to you? Got hit by a bus?”

 

There was a sad smile across his face, remembering what the man had looked like in their youth. Smooth skin, blond hair, bright blue eyes...a shadow of the man that sat before him now. The anger that had once overwhelmed him had begun to fizzle out, an exhaustion taking over his bones. Oh, he wanted to snatch onto the other’s throat and snap his neck...but there was an urge to cling to nostalgia, something he hadn’t felt in many years.

 

The past was staring at him, blinking up at him, and he wanted to...touch it. At least this one last time. A cleansing, almost. To relish in times when they were better, before he smothered out the man before he could object.

 

A pause, however, when he felt Jack’s fingers squeeze his own, and he blinked, looking over at him with a mildly confused expression. Why was he smiling? No...he smashed his own gun against his head. Why did he look happy?

 

Jack began to laugh softly, shaking his head.

 

“I am an old timer, now. You say you died with the fall of Overwatch? I did too.” He rolled his shoulders carefully. “A lot happened in the past few years, Gabe. Im sure you know as much…”

 

He smiled, however, squeezing his hands.

 

“You haven't changed a bit, Gabriel...I...didn't know you were still alive.” He laughed softly, relief gracing his voice. “I’m so happy…I knew you were still there…”

 

A huff, Gabriel's eyes narrowing down at him, looking almost cruel. “I destroyed everything you care about, and I threatened to kill you, and you’re still happy to see me?” he shook his head slowly with a sneer. “You’re still a sick son of a bitch.”

 

Jack’s head tilted a bit, blinking up at him, and Gabriel paused, staring down at his face. Something was off...the look in the other’s face, it was as if he could not focus on him… His eyes were not as crisp and blue as he remembered, but cloudy, glazed over, his eyelids half lidded. The other couldn’t see him, he could he?

 

Blindness.

 

Gabriel seized up, snatching his hand away with a snarl. He looked away, hissing under his breath, ignoring the man’s confused murmurs. The taste of the other was still on his lips, the heat of his body...it drove him insane, and he shook his head quickly. That simple touch after so long sent confused emotions, and he turned sharply, moving to rush back out the door.

 

“Gabriel!” He could hear Jack’s confused cries as he threw open the door. “Don't just leave me here--!” A primal fear, unable to move or see, the smell of death his only companion. Without that mask, he was nothing, his confidence gone.

 

The door slammed shut, Gabriel disappearing behind it.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack learns what the state of Gabriel's mental sanity is, and the underlying condition plaguing his body.

Jack would stare, sometimes. He didn’t have much else to do, trapped within the walls of this room, the smell of rotting meat filling his nostrils and sending him into waves of nausea and startled senses. And thus his eyes would wander, tracing the water damage stains upon the ceiling, or would eye the old splatters of dry blood upon the walls, or follow the mice as they scattered across the floor.

 

No, it wasn’t the first time he had been trapped like this, but it had been the first time his mask had been removed and his limbs restrained. A certain, unfamiliar fear was settling within his heart, which pounded like a frantic drum within his chest. Everything was a blur, his tactical visor unable to clear up his vision and leaving him without one of his senses. 

 

He’d never quite gotten used to the sudden hinderance of his body. At least, it felt sudden to him. The fading eyesight, the graying of his hair, the pain in his chest whenever he overexerted himself, the fierce bursts of pure violence and anger...it was periods where it was as if he was no longer his own person, but rather, a beast that had been summoned. Ever since that first symptom so many years ago...it had been a downward spiral.

 

Everything in his body had changed. What should not have been frightening sent fear into his heart, unable to see anything but blurs of color in his vision. There could have been a trap waiting for him, or the man could have been standing there in his dark clothes, and hell, he wouldn’t have ever known it. What a terrible thought.

 

His vision had went during his days as an Overwatch agent, but he was able to crutch it out frequently with different lenses and visors he wore. It was almost ridiculously easy, able to come up with excuses to keep his failing eyesight a secret from the higher ups, and his job secure. Ah, surely it was just fading from always staring at monitors, and stress from his job causing him to age more rapidly? 

 

All of that was in the past now. His only concern was surviving, and to survive, he needed to get out of this rathole. Time had been flowing without his own awareness of the passing of day and night...how long had he been here? However long it was, it was far too long, and he needed to leave. Not before they had a chance to do anything to him. 

 

Without the visor he had used for so many years, he felt lost, a bit frightened with his handicap further pushed into his face, and all he could do was hope that the soldier serum he had injected so many years ago still worked. It was like a wild animal, prepared to strike should anyone enter his perimeter when he was weakened.

 

Grunting softly under his breath, and blinking crud out of his eyes, he swivelled his head around until he located the shape of the door. He grumbled a bit, an animalistic snarl leaving his throat from the anger bubbling within his chest. His muscles flexing and tightening under his skin, his heart pounding against his ribcage, the man strained, attempting to snap and crush the chain that held his arms to place against his body and pinned him to the chair. Everything trembled, and he hissed softly, until his entire body seemed to suddenly release, his muscles giving out, and he gasped, mouth opening wide to desperately slurp down mouthfuls of air.

 

He winced a bit, his chest tightening with a painful ache, and he shook his head slowly. Dammit. If he had only been younger, this would’ve been dealt with in an instant--

 

The door snapping open startled Jack, tilting his head towards it, blue eyes widening at the figure standing at the doorway. There was a moment of hesitation, unable to see the face of the figure, but recognizing almost immediately who it was. Who the hell could it be? Despite being alone for the undetermined amount of time, Jack could recognize him, if only for the pungent stench from when they had first encountered each other.

 

A snarling bark left his lips, and he tried to lunge for the other, only to hear the chair screech against the filthy cement floor. That panting sound was heard again, filled with threatening growls and hisses, the sudden flush of anger welling within him, wanting the other man dead for this. For tying him up so…for toying with his emotions...for daring to see him weak and pathetic, he deserved to pay--

 

It was as if he grew feral, snarling and hissing, his fear stifled down in an attempt to look more powerful, to not look weak in front of this man. To hide the weakness that was evident within his blue, blue eyes that could not focus upon his shape, and to keep himself appearing intimidating. It was purely primal, his lips curled up to show his teeth, harsh breathing sucked past his parted lips and filling his lungs, before frantically exiting with each hiss.

 

Even if he could not see his attacker, see  _ Gabriel _ , he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing his weakness, of his fear of being restrained, of his lack of one of the five senses. No. The soldier within him refused to sit still, and he’d fight, even if that meant lunging at his beloved and breaking every damn bone in his god forsaken body without a moment of hesitation.

 

The sneer from the other man seemed to catch him off guard, and he let out a small growl in response, the footsteps echoing across the slime and filth spread along the floor. He moved with a confidence that even Jack could feel, despite his lack of sight, despite being unable to look at his face. It didn’t deter him, Jack still gnashing teeth together and attempting to look like the hardened soldier he was, even as he heard Gabriel’s boots thumping on the floor stop right before him.

 

Tilting his head up in his direction, he gave a soft hiss, his shoulders quaking ever so slightly. An anger stirred even more within him when the other did not say a word, instead leaned down just a bit, as if analyzing, getting a look at his face. Jack sneered, his blind eyes trying to focus, to see some sort of details, but nothing came to fruition.

 

He cursed his damn eyesight, his damn inability to see without that mask. Oh, how he wanted to know what expression Gabriel had upon that smug face of his, how he stared upon him. Was he gloating in glee over his prized winning trophy? The ghost of his past, here before him and within his trap, forced to do as he pleased.

 

Jack didn’t speak, however. No, he wouldn’t give him that pleasure of hearing his voice first, of mocking the words that left his lips. Not after Gabriel disregarded his desperate attempts to bring him back to his senses, to speak to him about their past. He couldn’t handle the ghost, and Jack wouldn’t entertain the thought any longer.

 

If he would treat him like a wild, dangerous animal, then that is what he would be.

 

"Your hands are shaking."

 

The words were surprisingly calm, sounding not like the raspy voice changed due to the mask, but the warm if a bit sharp tone that ached with familiarity. It was Gabriel's voice, alright. He could recognize it as much, which sent him reeling, his expression faltering when the other pointed out his hands trembling.

 

Pressing his bound hands as best he could against his stomach, he swallowed harshly, staring back at the other man. He could not see his figure move, his body twitch, and he kept his gaze level, hoping he was staring directly into Gabriel's face. The anger still swirled inside his chest, a bit painfully, biting and gnawing at his ribs and stomach. It was an urge to lunge at him, to rip him and tear him apart--he wouldn't let him go. Not after toying with his fragile emotions and leaving him here in a sensitive state of terrified apprehension.

 

Gabriel could kill Jack with a single bullet. No, it wasn't death he feared, no longer placing supreme value upon his own life, but rather, the notion of this man spearing him and slaying him as if he were a hog for dinner sent a strange terror down his spine. The man he had exposed everything he had to long ago, could easily filet him like a fish if he so desired. Rip out his heart and skewer him like a damn hog...he had the means to do so. Too much leverage from his emotions.

 

"You're afraid, Jack."

 

Gabriel's words were smooth, even, as if mocking Jack's attempts to appear powerful. There was a hint of sadness, however, his voice cracking at the man's name, and he heard his boots crunching as he slowly stepped forward once more. His hot breath, reeking of rancid rot filled his nostrils, and he coughed when he realized the other was so close now, brown skin visible against a black coat. His body remained still, for death was always patient. Death was always watching, waiting.

 

"Whatever happened to you, Jack? The hell did they do to you?"

 

The sudden softness in his voice caught Jack off guard, and he hissed, trying to buck his head away from the other. His heart smashed into his ribcage after every beat, and he winced, desiring so much to just will his heart away, to stop hearing Gabriel's voice, to stop smelling the reek of rot--

 

He's opened his chest to the other, invited him in after so long, after their fallout, after he believed he was dead. He offered his vulnerability, his emotions, his everything...and here he was left in the corpses of the meat, his own body left to ruin. Nothing better than the cattle that were slaughtered here.

 

Gabriel continued his voice smooth as butter, sounding just as it had all those years ago whenever he spoke to him, slightly hoarse but powerful, a consistent snicker to his tone.

 

"Look at you. You're old as shit. White hair, wrinkles everywhere...you look like someone's damn grandpa."

 

The snort and the soft laugh was heard, an attempt at childish jokes that only succeeded in Jack giving a threatening bark. The frustration welled up once more, ballooning, believing him to be the punch of the joke, the festering wound sliced open once more. He could hear the man moving once more, strolling in a neat circle around him, and he could feel himself being stared at with analytical eyes.

 

The rhythmic thumping of his boots against the filthy floor echoed in his head, slowly ticking in his being, and sending him into frantic delirium. When he moved behind him, he gasped, eyes widening as he threw his head back, still feebly trying to see through unseeing irises. Chest rising and falling frantically, he grit his teeth, looking pained as the man continued to walk, returning in front of him, his head smashing back to his forefront position.

 

Gabriel laughed quietly, sadly after a moment, and a clawed gauntlet suddenly rested against Jack's fingers. A terrifying shock jolted down his nerves, sending painful heat through his blood, and his digits twitched against the sharp metal, feeling the man's index finger tap against his trembling thumb.

 

"Don't you remember how we met, Jack?"

 

_ Yes. _

 

Of course he did. It was one of the few good memories he still had left of Overwatch. A dripping of his excitement as a young boy flashed before his mind, of a bright eyed soldier recruited to the army, excited for new possibilities and to get away from that damn farm. It seeped into his brain of meeting a handsome dark skinned man, a veteran, his superior, and then, his bunk mate. Clawing at his heart, threatening to suffocate him and choke him, of his boisterous glee at having this striking man be his roommate, work with him through his time as a soldier...

 

...the man who remained beside him through the painful testing that they endured within the walls of Overwatch--

 

A pained gasp was heard from Jack, coughing after a moment and shaking his head, hunching over their bound hands. Whining quietly, he feverishly shook, the sweet memories all the more bitter at the shattering betrayal he had endured, and now he knew, by the hands of the man he loved.

 

"Why are you here?"

 

The words were harsh, sneering, like knives aimed at his soft belly. Desperately he tried to reform, claim himself once more as a powerful man, a powerful soldier, but it was futile, crumbling before him. A man weathered by time, and his own body rebelling him, and he was falling, wilting before the man who seemed to be unable to age.

 

The finger stopped tapping his thumb, and a low, loud sigh was heard from the other man, breathing in rather heavily.

 

“A little rat said you were here. My damn sniper scurried off and squealed about you being in my care.” Gabriel said, his body seeming frozen in place, or at least, he made no major movements that Jack could detect so easily. “Talon’s on their way, guns blazing. Congrats, Jack. You’ve managed to piss off enough people that want you dead, even in the next life. Bring back any good memories? Sure does for me.”

 

Talon...the group of terrorists. Yes...the name rung familiar in his mind. They’d been a menace back in his Overwatch days...but what of the sniper they mentioned? Had Gabriel gotten his hands dirty with those monsters…? No...it didn’t make much sense.

 

But then again...Gabriel himself admitted to his involved in the destruction of Overwatch. Had he truly been a turncoat all along? Was Talon involved in that blast so many years ago that took away his entire life, and killed him in more ways than one?

 

The involvement of Talon and the linkage of Gabriel Reyes to them sent a few bouts of fear into the man’s stomach, but he clenched his jaw, keeping his face level to where he believed his eyes were.

 

Gabriel spoke once more, his voice smooth, calculating.

 

“Do you remember how we met?” he repeated with a soft hum. “Do you remember what happened after we met? How we got into Overwatch? Thought we were impressive. Thought we were men. Thought we’d be perfect little guinea pigs for them.”

 

There was another pause, Jack licking his lips carefully.

 

“I’ve always been your elder by five years. You always asked me for advice, always asked me for help. I was your teacher, and you were my student. You were like a little puppy, bursting with a new, bright future, not knowing what was to come. Big, bright blue eyes, and .... you wouldn’t stop smiling. I swore to myself that one day you’d just smile your entire life away...and you followed after me with a blind loyalty I’ve never seen in another man. I thought I’d trip over you some days. You learned everything from me. Like a shadow keeping the company of death.”

 

His index finger brushed against the inner curve of his palm beside his thumb, other clawed digits tapping against his knuckles.

 

“Hell, Jack. How did you become the older one? Last time I checked, I was five years your elder. Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to have the white hair and the bad back by now? You should be running laps around me.”

 

The laugh that came out was cruel, saddened, and a taste of pity as well. It dripped with grief, palpable enough that it caught Jack off guard, blinking in mild confusion. He could feel the other scoot closer to him, startled when he felt the other’s legs touching his knee from how close they were standing, his fingers still against his own.

 

“What did they do to you?”

 

Jack’s eyes slowly closed, the weight of the man’s words pressing hard against his chest. Of course Gabriel hadn’t aged, and if he did, it was  slowly. His hyperregeneration and healing and hyperdegeneration and decay...any sort of wounds except the scars he had received prior to his experimentation would not remain.

 

How ironic. Jack would not stop aging. Gabriel could not keep up.

 

When had he become the older one?

 

“Gabriel…”

 

Jack felt tired. So, so incredibly tired. The rage he had previously felt, his time in this dank hole in the old meat packing facility, the swirling emotions over Gabriel’s return and admittance of information that sent him reeling...he felt so drained. Sitting in the chair, he slowly curled his fingers around Gabriel’s, savoring the feel of the other.

 

The smell of rot lingered, but he didn’t try to flinch away from it. It clung to Gabriel’s form, death following him wherever he went. How fitting, that the man with the mantra of death had produced the smell in such heavy wafts, bowling down any sort of relief with a single step, a single wave of his hand. Those plumes of smoke…

 

Death was near, but he no longer felt afraid. Ah, but when was the last time he feared death? When the buildings shook, when the glass flew into his face, when the people he had worked with perished almost instantly? Or was it when he climbed out of the rubble, blinded and sobbing in pure, unrelenting agony?

 

It was a crushing emptiness in his chest. His conflicting emotions and thoughts finally seemed to melt away, dripping into the floor and seeping into the cracks, falling away into nothingness. Everything felt hollow, without purpose, without meaning. The thoughts he held for Gabriel Reyes were too polarizing, clashing and smashing against each other and breaking into pieces.

 

The hand touching his tightened, and he shifted his wrists against his binds to touch his thumb to the other’s fingers, rubbing slowly, soothingly.

 

He was alone.

 

The one man that had kept him sane, way back within the walls of the original Overwatch, stood before him. The love of his life, who had taken everything from him in the terrible aftermath of their civil war, was at his side, his hands trembling in his grip as he held back his own grief. There was something suddenly comforting about the human interaction he had, and he tried to lean closer, only held back by the tight wounds of chains pinning him to the chair. Reining his thoughts in, and preventing him from skirting areas of the far recesses of his mind he shouldn’t have wandered in.

 

His grip tightened against his hand when he heard a shaking breath from Gabriel, something within his heart twisting.

 

“I don’t know what came over me, all those years ago, Jack. I was angry, angry at you, angry at everything you stood for, and I wanted the entire place to burn. Something just, snapped, and the entire place did end up burning, exactly like how I wanted. The entire organization, always so grand, just...fell. Isn’t it kind of funny? It was a massive body, but just cut of the legs and it’ll fall.”

 

Was he...explaining himself, explaining his emotions? Jack blinked back tears, the rancid smell of decay filling the room once more, Gabriel’s form no longer looking as solid behind his nearly blinded gaze.

 

“You became distant. I thought I could do it. I mean, I was already dead. Been a dead man walking for years, probably. After what they did, after killing me over, and over, and over again...I woke up one morning just...dead. A corpse. Heh, isn’t that funny, Jack? I died on my own volition, not theirs, and the whole building went up in flames. I thought it was over between us, when you snapped at me over and over and went on your way as Strike Commander. Maybe our relationship failing is my fault too...thought I could just let you die and it wouldn’t bother me…”

 

Jack’s throat grew tight, especially when he felt the man’s hands shaking like a leaf in his grip. He froze up, however, when his hand seemed to suddenly lose its shape, fading away into noxious gas, before digits reappeared once more. Desperately he clung onto his fingers as the smell continued to grow worse through the room. What was happening? Why was that smell returning? Why was--

 

“Jack…”

 

He was growing upset. He was losing form. The form that had easily fallen apart and reappeared during their squabble...the cracking in his voice echoed his emotions bubbling up in his chest, altering his state of mind. The shackles upon his abilities were loosening, and he was losing control. Involuntarily, he could tell, from the frantic grasping and groping at Jack’s hands.

 

“I missed you. This is all my fault...what they did to me shouldn’t have made me drag you into this. I brought this upon us all, I destroyed everything, and now you’re like this and I’m like this and we can’t do anything about it because I tore it down from the damn support beams and left you there to die like a godforsaken animal to burn and die--”

 

Gabriel’s words were flooding together, smashing like cars on a road, becoming a blended, incomprehensible mess. Anguished noises left the man’s lips, sounding like a mixture between cracking sobs and distraught whimpers, his fingers hysterically snatching onto his own. It was as if Jack’s hands were the only anchor Gabriel had left in this world, and as he heard the strangled weeps leave his lips, and the horrific smell continue to waft and the smoke continue to swell, he realized that that wasn’t just a mere exaggeration. 

 

With a sharp inhale of his breath, holding the air tight into his lungs he braced himself, snarling as he suddenly released Gabriel’s fingers and forced his wrists apart with a forceful polar tug. When the ropes snapped and his wrists were free, he released the breath he was holding in relief. At least he still had it.

 

His hands snatched back onto Gabriel, grabbing onto anything that was still solid, still possessing a form. Fingers shaking, there was a franticness to his movements, relying completely on touch to feel Gabriel, terrified whenever his hands fell through the disgusting gas.

 

“Gabriel!” Jack snapped, his eyes wide and fearful, fingers shaking as he finally found his arms, squeezing tight to keep him present in this world. The man was still muttering to himself, going off on a tangent and spiraling into his own mayhem, his own mess of agony and grief and regret. Panic rose in Jack’s chest, a desperate need to keep the man pinned to this world, and not fade to the next. His emotions were speared down and focused--finally knowing that the man he loved so was alive, despite what he had done, he wouldn’t let him pass on. No...he’d organize himself and his feelings later.

 

“Gabriel, Gabe...focus on me. Don’t think about any of that, alright?” Jack’s hoarse, scratchy voice tried to soothe, squeezing him as tight as he could, running a hand up and down his arm to try to keep him focused, keep him centralized. He felt a cold chill whenever what he touched seemed to fade away, but never his hands. Not his hands. His hands never stopped touching Jack.

 

“You need to breathe. You need to focus on me. None of that matters anymore, Gabriel...it’s just you and me here…” he murmured softly, his muscles growing increasingly tense at the other’s raspy, whining breathing, his form no longer looking human, instead a congealment of body parts and clouds of smoke swaying and shrinking in loose, wispy connections to his humanity.

 

“You’re going to lose yourself. Please. Just...calm down...breathe. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

The smell of death was overwhelming, and had he not been focusing on trying to coax Gabriel to return he would have vomited.

 

What was left of that form seemed to crumble, falling to the floor before Jack, Gabriel’s hands still clutching onto him. His fingers trembled as very slowly, the shape slowly returned, the smoke returning and becoming a condensed being, what Jack could make out as a head returning. At least, that’s what he believed--the shadows and his own eyes tearing up from the smell making him unable to decipher what was in front of him too well. All he could tell was the dark form falling before him, and he could feel what he believed was Gabriel’s head resting on his lap, close enough for Jack to take one of his hands away and touch the side of his face.

 

Gabriel’s whimpering, whining breaths sent pain down his spine, and Jack continued to shush him gently, running fingers down his face and against his hair, where he could still feel smoke slipping out of his head in certain patches. To actually feel the other fading, to no longer be whole, was absolutely terrifying...his heart was going too fast again, painfully slow, but he pushed it back.

 

“That’s it...you’re doing good...come on...keep going…” Jack whispered, feeling the other twitch against him, his hands cold to the touch as he kept his clawed gauntlets pressed against the man’s body. The sudden change from a terrifying, sneering form to the crying, terrified man falling apart sent him reeling.

 

He wanted to stand, to shrug off the chains and properly support the man and hold him, but he couldn’t, the filthy metal digging far too sharply into his skin. He wanted to help him, hearing his soft cries from his lack of control over his own ability creating an image he had never wanted to see again...not since they had been young men in Overwatch and those events transpired--

 

They sat in silence. Jack’s hands continued their motions, one holding his hand and rubbing his knuckles with his thumb, the other stroking his hair and the side of his face in what he hoped was a soothing attempt. The reek still clung to them, but he could see no signs of smoke, and if it was still present, it had dissipated in amount and was down to a small stream.

 

Gabriel’s little breaths echoed in his head, as if he were holding back jolts of pain. The feeling of the man’s chest rising and falling quickly against him made Jack only all the more troubled, remembering the emotions he harbored back when he was a young man beside Gabriel. Holding each other and licking each other’s wounds after a horrific day...it was bringing him back to times he thought he had stuffed away for good.

 

A sharp swallow, and Jack lowered his head a bit, his grip remaining tight on Gabriel as the other gradually calmed down, coughing a bit against him as he regained his bearings.

 

“This isn’t...the first time this happened, and this won’t...be the last.”

 

The voice caught Jack off guard, his hand resting on the man’s cheek when he finally heard him speak. His eyes widened when he heard the brutal chuckle from Gabriel, shaking his head slowly and nuzzling into his thighs, shaky breaths leaving his throat. The man against him continued to laugh, his voice weary and exhausted.

 

“Gabriel?” Jack murmured, squeezing his cheek a bit to keep him still, keep him whole against him. “What...what just happened? What the hell are you talking about?”

 

He could feel the man shrug, his shoulder brushing against his knee from the hunched over position he had taken against his companion’s legs. That bitter laugh was heard, sending a cold chill within Jack’s heart, and he swallowed harshly, straining against the chains to get closer to him, to aid him.

 

“Don’t you remember, Jack? First time I found out my powers. We were on that train...on Route 66...to stop the entire thing from crumbling and stop the weapon trafficking…”

 

Of course he remembered. Their first real mission as agents. A simple but challenging mission, to investigate the movement of illegal weapons by virtue of the Deadlock Gang...that’s how they met Jesse McCree. That’s how Jesse McCree lost his arm. That’s how they were first put to the test of their strength after the experimentation...Jack’s incredible strength and speed, and Gabriel’s…

 

“Don’t you remember? I lost control. My legs suddenly evaporated, and my arms too…” Gabriel snorted softly. “Man...you should’ve seen the look on your face, too. You were terrified. I couldn’t control it, and our fear only made it worse? We nearly let Jesse get away, too. I couldn’t stop it.”

 

Jack took a heavy, shuddering breath.

 

“You’re losing control.”

 

“Bingo.”

 

Jack shook his head slowly. “I thought...they had stabilized that…? They brought you in immediately, fixed your healing to steady yourself...what---”

 

Gabriel sneered a moment, shaking his head once more “Temporary solution. Right after that explosion, I was blown to bits. That doctor pulled me out. Whatever happened with those bombs blasted whatever stability I had left in my damn body, and left me to roam...like smoke.”

 

When Jack felt his fingers brush his cheek, he gasped softly, his eyes widening as his muscles tensed, but he did not pull away, gritting his teeth as the other stroked his clawed thumb underneath his eye. A shaking breath, and the man laughed darkly.

 

“I’ve been falling apart for years, Jack. I’ve been dead. Death walks among you...and it’s me. I’ve been killed long ago by them. She couldn’t even let me die, after every crime I committed. Injecting me with something to overwork my healing factors...damn her. If I could see her again, I’d kill her. Spread her blood along the grass and put her corpse up in my living room--”

 

“Gabriel.”

 

“What.”

 

Jack closed his eyes, leaning into his touch with a heavy exhale. “You’re not making sense.”

 

Gabriel shrugged a moment. “I haven’t had full control for the past year. I’ve had different parts of my brain suddenly fade away or vanish. Would make sense. Who knows, maybe not everything regenerated yet.”

 

“Stop talking like that.”

 

“It’s the truth, Jack. Did you just see what happened? I fucking lost control. I fade away when I’m not putting every ounce of my focus in.” his words were harsh despite the exhaustion evidently tugging at him. “Whatever they did to me, it’s coming back with a vengance worse than…” his voice trailed off, and he seemed faded, confused, lost, before disregarding his attempt at the sentence, shaking his head once more. “All those tests, all those serums they shoved in my veins...I’m losing it.”

 

A dark laugh, and he squeezed the man’s cheek after a moment. “Who knows, Jack? Maybe I’ll just fade away, and never come back. That’s what you’d want, isn’t it? To see me dead after everything I did to you? You deserve that much.”

 

He could feel the other man’s hand sliding down his face, threatening to fall, and he snatched it quickly before it could do so, a dark growl leaving Jack’s lips.

 

“Shut up.” Jack snarled, gripping his hand tightly. “This isn’t the man that I had fallen in love with years ago. Don’t give me any of that bullshit of you being dead, or being killed. That’s not who I had fallen in love with. Gabriel Reyes wouldn’t let this kill him, wouldn’t let himself give up.”

 

“I’m simply admitting what’s true.” he snarled in response. “Every emotion I drag up, every memory that comes back to haunt me, even when I try to sleep, I start losing everything. I fall apart at the seams. There’s nothing I can do. You saw for yourself what happened. My once greatest tool is rebelling against me. I degenerate without my control, and it takes all the strength I have to come back together. I can’t even fall asleep anymore without fear I won’t wake up. I’ve been dead for years. Maybe it’s time to let death take over. It’s what I have coming to me.”

 

“Then we’ll fix this.” Jack finally announced, nodding his head. “You said these doctors are the ones that caused it? Then fine. I know who to go to then. Some of those terrible doctors are still alive, still around. It won’t take much to go and knock some information out of them.”

 

He could feel the man’s fingers curl slowly around his, hear the sigh that left Gabriel’s lips.

 

“After everything I’ve done to you, locking you in here, and all those words I said to you years ago...you’d help me? I took away everything from you. Twenty years of your life, gone. How do you even know if it’ll work, that you’ll get anything?”

 

“It doesn’t hurt to try, Gabriel.”

 

A laugh was heard from Gabriel, etching a small smile upon Jack’s face. Gabriel must have moved, for he was able to more firmly hold his face, his belly pressed against his legs, leaning forward to see him better. He could feel the man’s breath upon his face, hear his shallow breathing.

 

“You’re still a boy scout, Morrison.” Gabriel muttered softly, shaking his head slowly. “I still don't think that it’s even worth trying, but…” he shrugged slightly. “You were always so hopeful, smiling through everything. It get contagious.”

 

Jack could only smile sadly at that. Hopeful? He couldn’t say anymore, really. Was it a hopefulness? Ah, he wasn’t sure. The words had come out of his mouth before he could think them through. He could’ve let the other perish, but the idea of that was...a bit terrifying. His heart ached terribly at the thought.

 

Jack nodded slowly. “I know of a few names that are still alive. I could do some digging for you. Start somewhere. They did this to you, didn’t they? They ought to know how to fix it then, or at least do something to alleviate it.”

 

“Thought I killed all those bastards years ago.” Gabriel muttered under his breath. “You’re still one step ahead of me…”

 

Jack shifted a moment, the chains clanging together from where he was still pinned, and he paused in mild surprise when the other stood. He could hear him rounding around him, tugging at the chains and slipping them off of his form, tossing them aside with a loud clatter, the harsh noise causing Jack to wince a moment. An exhale of relief was heard, and he closed his eyes, slowly rolling his shoulders and arching his back once he was allowed freedom of movement.

 

“Thank you.” he breathed out, closing his eyes in exhaustion. The clawed hand suddenly latched out again, snatching his jaw and forcing him to look back at Gabriel, staring at his form, or at least what he believed was his face. All of those dark colors meshed together terribly in his vision...he regret the loss of his mask terribly. Without that visor, he couldn’t see a thing.

 

“You better not be lying to me, Jack.” Gabriel sneered out, sounding very much like a panicked, cornered animal, desperation and futility lacing his voice, claws digging into the man’s skin. Jack could feel his fingers trembling, and he slowly placed his hand over his, squeezing ever so slightly and stroking his knuckles.

 

“I’m not, Gabriel. Not again.” he whispered softly, slowly forcing himself to his feet. He stumbled, growing dizzy almost immediately, his entire brain feeling as if it went through a blender, his knees knocking together. When was the last time he ate…? It had to have been a few days…

 

Those hands snapped at him, this time gripping his upper arms tightly, holding him in place securely.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine...I just need to eat. I get dizzy when I haven’t eaten.”

 

Jack smiled tiredly a moment.

 

“It’s been a few days, you know? I’m...hungry.”

 

He swore he could hear the other rolling his eyes.

 

“You’ve always been like that, Jack. A pig who’s grump and grumble when he didn’t get his dinner.”

 

Jack cracked a small smile when he heard Gabriel snicker in amusement to himself, patting his shoulder.

 

“Gabriel. Listen to me, alright? Please. Take care of yourself. I need to dig a bit. Can you meet up with me in two weeks? There’s a bar we can head to, a few towns over. It should be far away from any gangs that we can discuss the information privately.” Jack suggested smoothly, blinking slowly in his direction. “I would love to sit here and make idle chit chat in this disgusting room, but I need to go. I still don’t know why you made this your hideout...but you’ve always been a strange one.”

 

There was silence on Gabriel’s end, Jack’s throat tightening in apprehension, before the man placed something in his hands, patting his chest carefully as he stepped back. His gloved fingers immediately moved to feel it, his eyes widening as he brought it up to his face.

 

The mask. He’d saved the mask--

 

Smoothly it snapped back into place over his face, the visor clicking on once it was connected to the ports again. His vision lit up, and Jack startled, blinking and looking around, the shock of suddenly being able to see making him even more dizzy. Stepping back, he regained his composure, blinking back at Gabriel.

 

Oh god...Gabriel…

 

Able to clearly see now, he could see the smoke wafting off of his body in thin wisps, unable to completely reform. His cheeks were sunken in, eyes dark, his facial hair overgrown and unkept. The man barely looked human, slumped over slightly under his own weight, watching him with a sickly gaze. Fingers trembling, he tugged his hood on, trying to conceal himself once he realized Jack was capable of seeing him.

 

Was he ashamed? That wasn’t the Gabriel he knew, but then again, had the Gabriel he knew died in that fire as well? Despite not aging, he looked as if he was another person, so scrawny and skinny, frail, as if the wind could blow him over. He thought he felt skinny when he was consoling him, but now...

 

Jack reached out, his fingers gracing his face, his palm cupping his cheek. Gabriel’s eyes closed, letting out a soft sigh as he leaned into his touch, merely enjoying his company for a little longer.

 

He nodded against his hand, barely a twitch.

 

“Alright.” he murmured. “That little bar...Burning Crow, was it?” a slow nod. “Yeah...I’ll be sure to remember, Jack. You better have something good for me, you hear?” a weak smile, dark eyes fluttering open to gaze at him.

 

His hand patted the man’s side, and he slowly pulled away, glancing around, before focusing back on him.

 

“Hope you still got strong legs, Jack. You need to get out of here, and hope that that sniper doesn’t see you. She’ll blow your goddamn brains out. You gotta go, before Talon comes here and plucks you up. I hope what they say about old dogs learning new tricks is true, for your sake.”

 

A scowl crossed Jack’s features, relieved that his emotions were no longer put on full view for the other man. Another snort left his nose when he heard Gabriel laugh weakly at his own attempt at a joke.

 

“What are you going to say when I’m suddenly gone?”

 

“I’ll come up with some ratty story they’ll believe, don’t worry. They’re not incredibly bright, surprisingly enough. Past their blades and rifles, they’re incredibly dull.”

 

Gabriel quickly hit his side with a surprisingly strong arm, some of the gas spilling out of his form at the motion, causing Jack to squeak in alarm. He blinked a few times as he lifted his head at him, able to clearly see and focus without the smell from the rotting meat and Gabriel’s own corpse confusing his senses. Dipping his head, he slowly stepped towards the door, the man remaining in the center of the room.

 

Hesitating, his gloved hand gracing the doorknob, he glanced back at Gabriel, who shooed him off with a few hand gestures.

 

“I’ll be fine, Jack. I’ll live. Go on. You better not be the old man that you look like--I want to  see you escape death one more time. If she catches you, she’ll put up a fight.”

 

Jack stared for a few moments, stuffing his heart back in the deepest alcoves of his chest, and slipped out the door and disappeared out of sight from Gabriel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is left alone to his thoughts while he waits for the deadline.

Two weeks.

 

Fourteen days.

 

Three hundred and thirty six hours.

 

Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes--

 

That’s the time that Gabriel had until he met up with Jack once more.

 

The words repeated like a mantra, over and over again in Gabriel Reyes' head. He moved with a ferocious desperation, the lines spilling out past his lips as he marched through the old, abandoned meat packing facility. Each line was uttered fiercely, frantically, making sure that he didn't forget it. No, he couldn't forget that meeting in two weeks. If the thought slipped through his mind like other fleeting memories--

 

Forgetting other things he had grown used to. Forgetting to shower. Forgetting to eat. Forgetting assignments issued and paid for by Talon. Those were things he called acceptable. If he were to forget something, they weren't important enough to fret over the loss of by his disorganized, finicky mind, that could not hold itself together for impossibly long.

 

No, it was this meeting in two weeks that held the utmost importance in his head, one that he wouldn't let slip away this time. Two weeks, a meeting with Jack, over information he had gathered. A desperate attempt to bandage the wounds inflicted long ago, the powers that were a blessing to his work and a curse to his central being and physique. Gather knowledge and Intel over the disgusting barbarism that was committed against his body, and find a way to stop its decomposition of his body and if possible, reverse it.

 

Hell, he found himself even growing hopeful. How preposterous. To believe there was a possible cure for the decay and rot that had taken over his body...ridiculous indeed. And yet...he found himself believing the soothing lull of Jack's words, the familiar, deep tone laying out those words and those plans so confidently. Still he held the grace and power of a leader, even years after the corruption of his former job. Jack could still invoke emotions into his listeners and grasp their attention with ease...

 

Jack had Gabriel believing, after all. That was an accomplishment in and of itself. To have the other by his side again, and the two of them working together once more towards a common goal was...strange, almost. The emotions it stirred in his chest were conflicting, biting with hot teeth at his ribs, yet cradling his lungs and heart with a gentle caress. He'd find it hard to breathe sometimes when he thought about it for too long. The man he tried to kill was now his greatest ally once more.

 

He felt almost...excited, to see Jack once more. Still able to feel his touch upon his skin, his fingers running down his flesh, soothing the anxiety and the grief he felt...it brought him back to the days as a young man beside Jack Morrison. The crippling pain they felt from the gene therapy, ravaging their bodies and sending them in a severe series of agonizing trials...yes, he could remember them attempting to console and heal each other past the pain they felt coursing through their veins. Jack tending to him as he struggled to hold himself together...the memory was still vivid down to the warmth of the other; and he kept it close, reminding himself exactly why he released the other man and why he still kept that plan at the forefront of his mind.

 

Too much to think about, not enough brainpower to sort it all. Thus Gabriel had shoved his confused thoughts of Jack to the side, instead focusing all of his energy on remembering what was important. That date (two weeks), the location (the Burning Crow), and the reason for their reunion (to keep him whole).

 

It was why when he found an old notepad in one of the drawers and a pen that still had some ink, Gabriel Reyes began to write. The exercises were simple, at first, writing down what he wanted to remember, those important details...writing seemed to focus his brain, center his thoughts and organize himself. Even if parts of his brain evaporated (as they did frequently) the thoughts he needed to hold onto remained upon the paper. When he grew lost, afraid, his barriers gone, he'd glance upon the paper and refresh what information needed to be kept close.

 

If it was written on the pad, it was of importance. He’d find himself at times lost and disoriented, stumbling around, unable to focus himself. Even if he didn’t know the date, or the time, or who was the president, at least he had what he needed on the notepad. If his memory were to fail him, he’d have to go to different means of retainment.

 

Not only what he needed to remember went on the paper. His shaking hands would snatch up the pad and begin to scrawl down any emotions he felt, any sort of strange symptoms. At times he’d scribble down when he could feel parts of his body flaking off, disappearing in plumes of smoke. One point he saw that he had recorded when some of his internal organs had disappeared, for he was vomiting black sludge and the gas leaking from his nose and mouth, making him unable to consume anything. No longer did he bleed, but spew out rotting flesh in the form of blackened ooze. Maybe it was his organs? Even then, as he wrote down the symptoms with liquid dribbling down his chin, he wasn't sure, and didn't particularly care. All that mattered was that it was recorded.

 

His body had fallen apart more and more frequently, and Gabriel would frantically record any of these events.

 

Surely his symptoms would be important? Such as when parts of his brain vanished, such as the area that controlled his sight, his hearing, his sense of touch, leaving him lost and confused, would be important to know for their goal. With his memory so finicky, he needed to have a record. That record should have been able to assist Jack in the quest to stabilize him. How else could he receive aid if they weren't sure what the severity of it was?

 

The motions he went through these now daily events were odd, writing down every affliction that took over his body. To see it at face value, rereading it in a moment of clarity, was...a bit daunting, realizing just what exactly was going on with him. The notes were a few pages long, his handwriting changing drastically depending on what exactly was occurring--a few sentences were illegible, and he wondered if this was when his ability to process language was effected.

 

The anxiety and depression that claimed him, and the now frequent panic attacks were recorded as well, and as he scanned the pages a few periods after Jack's departure, he could see the shaking, frantic handwriting. Strange words were splayed across the paper, words such as “demon”, “monster”, and “hunger”, which when he had tried to think of the cause of the strange words, nothing came out.  The tremors in the scripture caught him off guard, his own letters looking rather alien to him as he read and reread the frantic cries written on paper over and over.

 

He set it up to a fit of panic, which had grown rather frequent. Maybe he had been hallucinating when part of his brain had short circuited? Made sense. It wouldn’t have been the first time images and sounds that didn’t exist permeated into his senses and sent him reeling. He hadn't been close to humanity, craving the touch of Jack, obsessing over the last time he had killed and stole the life of another...but before he could come up with a lofty conclusion, his mind grew distracted and went instead to the difference in the way he wrote his 'A's when he was upset.

 

A single week passed without much excitement, Gabriel struggling to keep all of his notes in order and focused, legible and usable when he had met up with Jack once more (one week, seven days, one hundred and sixty eight hours, ten thousand and eighty minutes…). He tried to keep himself busy, keep his mind busy; maybe the focus would prevent his mind from breaking apart and falling to shambles.

 

Frequently in his free time he would engage himself in his firearms. Keeping up with maintenance of his pistols, check the the ammunition he had, practice firing, come up with new ways to reload and faster ways to change out of his pistols…

 

He’d come to notice that routine was what kept his memory in tact for as much as it could. The routine of working with the guns made him faster, his reflexes snap quicker, his reloads smoother...he’d soon moved to keeping a routine for his entire day. The solitary lifestyle he led allowed him to function a bit smoother without the need for human contact.

 

Cycles of doing different activities occurred. Training, roaming the abandoned building, writing down his notes, and soon, he’d taken up meditation. Sitting quietly in the one clean room in the building, he’d sit, legs crossed and breathing slowly, trying to clear and empty his mind. It was what kept him together when he began to lose control...clearing his head and focusing his thoughts, centralizing his being.

 

Meditation...at first he had thought it was stupid, ridiculous, especially when Jack took up meditation in their soldier days. He had mocked him, mocked his beliefs for inner peace, and had scoffed when the other merely chuckled at him and continued on his way.

 

It was...ironic, that he’d taken up meditation now. Maybe it was his unstable being...he didn’t know, but he continued on with it anyways. Gabriel didn’t have much to keep himself together anymore. The idea of sitting peacefully without anything to worry about certainly did help his frantic emotions and his being. So it did have its merits, even if it went against his usual consciousness and his morals.

 

Jack was right about things. Occasionally. What Jack had suggested years ago allowed him to meander tentatively between the gentle balance of serenity, and rage, allowed him to be whole. He'd grown satisfied, balanced, waiting through each day until the assigned time for that meeting was reached.

 

Only until that schedule of repetition and at times, peace, was shattered when he found her staring him down the hallway as he made his usual rounds of roaming the hallways and counting every room he saw once the sun was above in the sky.

 

No one had come into his inner bubble ever since he sent Jack on his way, and at the first sight of Widowmaker, he at first believed himself to be hallucinating once more. After all, he had been alone for so long, roaming these halls and trying to keep up a schedule for himself, the sight of another living, breathing, human being caught him clearly off guard.

 

If she could even be called that at this point.

 

Her footsteps were soft, quiet, barely able to be heard, and he at first believed his hearing had disappeared, either through his ears fading away or that part of his brain vanishing. But when he heard the little snicker leave her throat, he swallowed harshly, straightening out his spine to stand tall and proud before her. So startled by her appearance at the end of the hall,

 

Her eyes were darkened, the sight he had seen when she locked onto prey. She moved with a streak of confidence, her rifle resting on her back, and she rolled her shoulders slowly when she stepped before him. Slowly did she tilt her head, and purred softly, staring at his face. Strange prickles of fear trickled in his veins, and the man swallowed sharply.

 

“Amélie.”

 

Gabriel wasn’t pleased with how his voice had come out, gritting his teeth in mild disgust. His voice was hoarse, scratchy, and certainly did sound as if it were human. It even pained him a bit to speak, having not uttered a word ever since Jack had left.

 

Jack…

 

Was that why she was here? He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her ever since she had dropped off the message Talon had left. A rumor of seeing Jack Morrison alive and in his care. He’d shirked them off, trying to shrug them away and to ignore that they had even questioned him. After all, they didn’t need to know a single thing about his affiliations. She dropped off missions he could decide to take or not for a pretty penny. He didn’t have everlasting ties to them.

 

Yet why was he terrified, especially when she grinned at him with such a terrifying purr? Her intent sent him shiver, and he took a small step back. No...why was he afraid? Ah, maybe his emotions were being stirred? He should have his notepad nearby, maybe he should write this down...he could’ve been able to shoot her right in the head without a second thought, but...the tightness in his chest prevented him from doing so.

 

She moved slowly, methodically, slowly rounding around him, as if sizing him up. Gabriel responded by rotating as well, following her gaze and refusing to tear away. Their eyes didn’t break the contact, until finally she spoke with that thick accent.

 

“You’re needed, Reaper. Talon has become...interested, in a certain pursuit, and would certainly enjoy your cooperation.”

 

Amélie paused in front of him, finally stopping her slow meander around him, a pleased expression upon her face. She tilted her head slowly up at him, humming.

 

“Surely you understand, don’t you? You’re quite a valuable asset. We haven’t heard a peep from you in a week. You’re one of our best men...and they had a few...questions for you.”

 

Reaper stared, his dark eyes scanning her over quickly, struggling to see her intentions, the lies that she spewed from her lips. But the woman had become a master at hiding her emotions. That confidence was unwavering, her control in the situation a powerful vice grip. Squeezing the air out of his lungs, her stoic features squeezing, squeezing…

 

He blinked quickly, and sneered, shaking his head, before waving his hand to shoo her off. Turning sharply, he began to walk off, back down the path he went so frequently before, his heavy boots thumping against the concrete as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Desperately he tried to regain control of the situation, snarling over his shoulder.

 

“Sorry. I’m on vacation the next two weeks. Talk to me after, sweetheart. I’m off the books. Been working rather hard lately, and these poor old bones of mine are rather tired. Ah, don’t you understand?”

 

A dark grin spread across the man’s face, strips of flesh evaporating and fading up, particles rising towards the ceiling. His eyes scanned her, and scanned past her, locating the open window at the end of the hallway. So that’s how she got in. He’d have to seal that window with cement next chance he got.

 

“Besides, I have a little bit of a pest problem to deal with. It needs my immediate attention? Spiders, you know? They’re little bastards.”

 

His smile widened, eyes darkening, showing all of his teeth in his grimacing expression. A soft snicker.

 

“They just keep coming back for more. Getting everywhere. Trying to weasel into my bed, ah, you know the type. I like to personally tear the legs off of them, and watch them wriggle around, and try to save themselves. I always thought it sent a clear message. They used to do something similar in England. If they didn’t want any trespassers, they’d put their heads on spears and hang them from the gates.”

 

A laugh left his lips, clearly amused with himself, despite Widowmaker’s blank expression not showing her similar thoughts. She tilted her head, giving a soft, quiet sniff, shifting her weight very slowly. The man gestured with his hands, stepping back and tilting his head back a bit.

 

“Go on. Run along now. Back to mama bird. Tell them I’m taking my vacation days now. Going on a journey of self discovery and all that bull crap.”

 

He seemed rather pleased with himself, that smile not leaving his features, until he paused when the woman snickered softly, her eyes dark, her muscles tense as she took another step closer. Slowly, she looked around, sniffing once more, until her gaze fell back onto him.

 

“You smell of death, Gabriel Reyes.” she hummed. “A foul stench of corpses and rotting flesh. You certainly must feel at home here, among the guise of the odor of deceased cattle and pork. It’s certainly fitting of you. To squalor among animal shit.”

 

His eyes flashed, snatching up one of his guns from his coat, and rushed towards her, the barrel ready to smash against her. Yet before he could even make contact, she moved, as if she were sliding, gliding away from him and rounding around him, smashing her fist into the back of his neck. A loud gasp was heard, and he crumbled forward, falling to his knees, his entire form trembling briefly as a thin layer of smoke soon covered his body.

 

Her footsteps echoed again as she walked back over to his front, kneeling down in front of him with a purr.

 

“So the doctor from Overwatch was correct. Your nervous system is the thing keeping you still alive, still in this world. Those tests seemed to have proved something about your strange being.”

 

Tests. Images flashed in his mind, of his body torn apart, pierced by bullets, and tormented over and over, his flesh ruined and destroyed repeatedly, just to see his recovery. Burning, drowning, cutting, tearing...men staring at him as if he were an animal, scientists excitedly sending him through more barraging tests of pain and agony, just to see the true extents of his powers. To see what their serum had done to his body, to push his abilities to heal to the extreme. The pain was present in every single one of those tests, when he was splayed on those operating tables and they sliced him open like a fish to move his organs while he was conscious for every damn moment--

 

A gasp when she sharply kicked him, sending him to the floor again, his gun clattering beside him.

 

“You are a sick man, Gabriel Reyes. What happened to the man when we had gone to capture the Doomfist Gauntlet? You were supposed to be immortal, even as a corpse. But yet you’re stuck, trapped, aren’t you? It’s a shame, really.”

 

She shook her head slowly, Gabriel slowly forcing himself to his feet, the disgusting smell of rotting corpses filling the air once more his body beginning to crumble. He shook, managing to roll back onto his hands and knees, shaking his head quickly.

 

“You son of a bitch--”

 

How was she aware of all of this? Where was she getting her information from…?

 

It was like a cat playing with a dying mouse, enjoying its suffering before it ended its life.

 

“Oh. It’s a shame. This was what I was afraid of...you really shouldn’t be hung up on the past anymore, Gabriel.” she clicked her tongue, kneeling down next to him. Tilting her head, she licked her lips slowly, methodically. If she hadn’t been tormenting him, Gabriel would have believed she was attempting to further her own physical gains, he mused from the rather nice view he had of her--

 

He shook his head quickly, and scrambled back to his feet, struggling and clamoring onto the wall, desperate before his body gave out once more. His arms began to fade, his body losing its shape, and he hissed softly, staggering backwards once he got into a standing position.

 

“Get out.”

 

“You wish for me to run away, just how you let Jack Morrison escape without Talon aware?”

 

“Get out!”

 

“You’re a traitor, Gabriel. But then again, I suppose it’s hard for you to break away from the only thing you know?”

 

“ _ Get out _ !”

 

His voice boomed, echoing through the quiet of the building, Gabriel’s hand shaking as he pointed accusingly at her, shaking his head slowly. Face whiter than it normally was, parts of his face fading away to leave stark white patches of bone, he shook. Slowly he moved, snarling like a deranged animal.

 

“Get out of here. Now. Tell your little dogs I’m not coming with them, either. Tell them I’m not interested, to stay the fuck out of my life. I’m not providing my services anymore.”

 

When had he lost control? Oh god, he couldn’t stop, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, his body wouldn’t stop breaking down and reforming. He was terrified--

 

Slowly, he shook his head, his vision fading in and out, struggling to compose himself. Was it his eyes disappearing? Or was it his brain faltering him again? It was inconsistent, his vision going from back, to loss of color, to shades melting and blending together, Widowmaker’s shape incoherent to him.

 

He gaped, swallowing harshly, slowly beginning to back up.

 

No...he had to leave. He had to run away. Get away from here, get away from her, get away from Talon...

 

There was a sudden crack in the air, and a burst of fire and pain. Maybe he was dead, maybe he could regenerate quickly, but that didn't’ stop the sharp bolts of pain that shot through his body at the bullet suddenly embedded into his deadened flesh. The gasp that sounded through his throat startled him, and he turned around sharply, black sludge seeming to ooze from the hole in his forehead instead of blood, and he snarled. His vision snapped back from the shot, able to now focus clearly upon the assassin before him.

 

“You--”

 

BLAM

 

Gabriel was sent reeling, the sniper still holding onto her gun tightly, her entire posture and even down to her expression stoic and emotionless. He fell backwards, his body smashing into the ground, and he gave a frightened cry at the feeling of the gas and the trickling black liquid dripping down his face. His entire body trembled a moment, struggling to stay reformed from the surprise, his hands swirling and disappearing before reforming. Patches on his face began to float up to the ceiling, Gabriel’s vision swimming.

 

He may have been indestructible, he may have had an amazing healing factor, and hell, he may have been dead, but a wound that would normally be fatal still sent him reeling. With his vision swaying dangerously, his consciousness struggling, Gabriel hissed, raising a hand and trying to stand up, to move, to get to his feet, but the sudden foot smashing into his throat prevented such an action.

 

He gurgled and gasped, clawed gauntlets digging into her leg, a snarl leaving his lips at the quiet hum that was heard from her. Slowly, she leaned down, pressing the barrel of her rifle to his forehead, finger pressed against the trigger.

 

“I do know once weakness you do have, Gabriel.” she purred. “You can be knocked unconscious. Isn’t that true? After all, they’ve discovered a surefire way to get you to sleep when your body cannot process drugs. A bullet in the head certainly does wonders for you, Gabriel. I shall thank the doctors.”

 

She grinded her foot in her throat, hearing his gags and chokes. He tried desperately to disappear, to fade away--after all, it was what he did best--but the control was lost, placed instead in Widowmaker’s slimy, filthy hands. No longer having control anymore, his body just systematically faded in certain places and reformed almost instantly.

 

He couldn’t stop his fading when he wanted to stay whole, and he couldn’t vanish when he wanted to disappear. The irony was cruel.

 

The woman chuckled softly, tilting her head. “Talon simply cannot say no to their best man refusing them. Ah...I shall see you soon, then, old friend.”

 

The gun went off, destroying what was left of his brain matter and sending him into a pitch black darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's efforts to gather the information in time for his meeting with Gabriel, all while fighting his own growing ailments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look i uploaded a jack-centric chapter on 7/6 are you proud of me yet

“Blech!”

 

Jack panted loudly, heaving, sharp breaths leaving his throat, as he coughed, seeming suddenly overwhelmed. He shook his head quickly, sticking out his tongue, before stuffing the last of the wrapper in the trashcan, making a dissatisfied noise. Squeezing his eyes shut to rid himself of the taste and texture from the beans and peppers, he shook his head quickly and spat upon the street, his entire face wrinkling in displeasure.

 

Tears welled in his eyes and dripped down his cheeks, and he feverishly rubbed at his face blindly. A soft gasping noise was heard, waves of sickness overwhelming him at the foot he forced down before he could throw it back up, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The nausea was overwhelming, the spices in the food sending his mouth on fire. 

 

Why on earth did even eating have to hurt? It felt as if it dug into the walls of his stomach, gnawing at his intestines, and threatening to burst out. Almost like that one old movie from decades ago...would an Alien blow from his stomach?

 

He always hated that movie as a child.

 

At least he had managed to finally hold something down, he mused. For now.

 

Never had he gotten used to the strong flavors of Mexican food, and the burritos he had stolen from a food truck certainly hadn’t helped. Despite their cheap, frozen consistency, it had still overwhelmed his senses. The years hadn’t allowed him to get used to anything remotely spicy. But it was that cheap, frozen consistency that already began to aggravate his insides, and he took deep gulps of the warm air to try to soothe himself.

 

Especially now back in Dorado, what was considered mild or lacking anything sort of heat burned his tongue and his mouth. With a bitter laugh, he wondered what Gabriel’s reaction would be to this. After all, back at their old stomping ground in the old Overwatch base, his favorite topic would be Jack’s repulsion to food with any “taste”, as Gabriel called it.

 

He remembered Gabriel sneaking spices into his food, and watching his reaction to the sudden heat. Hot peppers were his favorite, really. Jack hadn’t realized the different in color and shape to the peppers until it was too late, and he was in tears and frantically trying to cool his mouth. It was a favorite activity of Gabriel’s, to his dismay.

 

Him getting a meal now was stirring up the same memories, especially as he panted like a dog to soothe his burnt tongue.

 

No, stealing food from a cheap food truck wasn’t his idea of a full meal. But the clawing at his stomach and the exhaustion pulling at his bones had pushed him to eat, scarfing down the burritos in a startlingly quick motion. Just something--anything!--to fill his stomach and take away the painful emptiness in his belly. Even if any sort of food merely caused him severe discomfort and thoughts of spitting back up his food--his hunger won out this time, instead of the fear of growing sick.

 

The beans and rice settled painfully in his stomach, and he coughed a moment, rubbing at his lips tiredly. A few waves of regret flew within him, wondering if maybe he should’ve chosen something a bit better to eat instead of the disgusting street food. But with this lifestyle of consistently on the run, and with his low stock of money, he didn’t have much a choice but crack open the food truck that was left outside and take the burritos that were left.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his surroundings swim and his balance falter, and he stumbled backwards, struggling to keep the food down and in his stomach. A soft groan, and he coughed a moment, sucking in loud, desperate gulps of air to not throw up, closing his eyes.

 

Despite his hunger, his stomach seemed to rebel at the idea of food, which certainly hadn’t been the first time. Then again, he wondered if it was the diet of fast food he had lived on for the past few months. The spices in the food from Dorado certainly wasn’t helping either. The Mexican food in the he’d been here had curled and gnawed at his stomach, and he struggled to grow used to it.

 

It didn’t matter now, really. Maybe the food here was shit, but it didn’t matter. He had a job to do. A promise to keep. He’d suffer through worse food and more crippling sickness to get to the information he needed, the documents he had failed to get last time he was here.

 

He groaned, pockets of air swimming in his stomach, and he pressed hard against his abdomen, belching loudly after a few moments. A wince, the action painful and stirring the substances in his stomach, his head falling back briefly as he attempted to compose himself. Some heavy breaths of the warm night air, and he tremored lightly. Sweat was beading down his skin, his cheeks red with fever.

 

His fingers dug into the flesh of his stomach, and he shook his head slowly. Maybe it was the gas in his stomach, but his belly had ballooned out recently, swollen and hard as a rock. His jacket strained against the bloating, and as he inspected himself further, he felt the sharp bulging of ribs and hip bones, his arms losing muscle mass. It was as if his body didn’t know what to do with the food, creating the uncomfortable indigestion and distention he felt.

 

Losing weight terribly, yet with a stomach that was rounded as if he had grown fat. Oh, he must’ve looked like a terrible mess. What a fool he was.

 

The mask was slipped back on, the visor clicking into place. There was a light humming, his brain suddenly overwhelmed with the images he saw, scanning the area and throwing information at him. Temperatures. Pressures. Densities. Persons nearby. Every time he had put on the mask, he was still caught off guard with an almost burning sensation in his head, going from the comfortable darkness to the red-tinted world he saw again as the visor connected with his brain. Redirecting past his optical nerve and sending the messages directly to his brain...it was what gifted him the ability to see, see even better than before his sight had been destroyed.

 

Being used to the senses and information thrown at him so suddenly didn’t help the feeling of being very overwhelmed very, very quickly. Going from sensory deprivation to sensory overload always sent him reeling.

 

With a sigh, he bent down, scooping up his rifle in his large hands. The metal felt cool through his thick gloves, and he gripped it tightly with a loud exhale. His fingers trembled a bit, a wave of dizziness taking over him as he stood up straight, and his eyes squeezed closed to try to refocus himself. Breathing heavily through the mask, he slowly began to walk, heavy boots thumping against the ground as he moved from the alley and into the streets.

 

The lights illuminated the streets faintly in the dark, casting shadows across buildings and fixtures within the town. His own body created a large silhouette that stretched far ahead of him, mimicking his movements with exaggerated gestures. The moon shone high above in the night sky, no signs of life within Dorado.

 

There wouldn’t be anyone to disturb him, then as he attempted to finish the job he started not so long ago. No onlookers, no little girls with their money swiped...he could finish the lead he had a few weeks ago, and snatch what he was looking for. Those lowlife rats should’ve still been nearby...they ruled these streets, they shouldn’t have wandered away too far. After all, he hadn’t gotten a chance to finish his job then…

 

He’d gotten information of a trade occurring. Some sort of whistleblowers passing along weapons, documents, hard drives from computers...old information from Overwatch was invaluable. Archived were weapons of mass destruction, bioweapons, experiments...anything that could be used to completely cause ruin and pain, or contribute to a new war effort.

 

But weapon wasn’t what Jack was after. At least, no longer was it the case. He was hounding, looking for personal files, medical files, anything about the super soldier serum and the painful gene therapy Gabriel and Jack himself had been forced to endure.

 

Any sort of information to find out why exactly Gabriel was crumbling, why the poor man was falling apart in more ways that one. He had made a promise, and with little to keep him pushing through the world and keep moving, he would fulfill that promise, and get the information away from the middlemen.

 

He’d rip the heads off of every single Los Muertes’ gang member if it meant there was a sliver of a chance of him obtaining anything to even have a small sliver of a chance to save Gabriel’s life.

 

Having only just gotten Gabriel back in his life...he couldn’t lose him. Despite the knowledge that  Gabriel was indeed to blame, he couldn’t abandon him. Surely...there had to be a reason he had done this?

 

Then maybe he’d find that evidence with the rest of the documents, if he could get his hands on them...

 

The sights of the streets were familiar enough, and he located the landmark of a little bakery. With the lights off and the building shut down for the night, he had nearly missed it, had it not been for the same sign offering a sale on cookies catching his gaze. He moved quickly, ducking into the alleyway behind the bakery and storming forward in the dark. Slowly his hands moved behind him, gripping the rifle tight, ready and aimed incase anyone snuck up behind him.

 

Each step was heavy and slow, trudging along, dragging himself with a few wheezes. The rice and beans sat heavily in his belly, weighing down on him like an anchor. He felt nauseous, any food sitting in his stomach for too long making him want to vomit. Swaying slightly as he walked, he held tighter to his rifle, as if hoping that would keep him level. Repeatedly the idea of sitting down and letting the sickness pass slipped into his brain, to rest and let the food digest slowly...

 

But yet...he kept moving.

 

Pushing past the sickness he almost constantly felt was well worth his troubles as he clawed towards his end goal. Sure, he felt that gnawing hunger now very consistently in his life, and the nausea that overwhelmed him once he did eat was mind numbing, but he needed to keep moving. Keep going towards that achievement he strove for.

 

Just what exactly had the Los Muertes Gang snatched onto…? They’d been the middle men, obtaining the cargo from another gang, with orders to transport them to the Talon base on the outskirts of town. He’d caught them when he went snooping, and he’d chased them into the town. If it hadn’t been for the girl getting in his hair, he would’ve gotten those documents and hard drives he needed…

 

A start when he heard muffled voices around the bend, and he tried to quiet his heavy, thundering footsteps, eyes narrowing through his visor, pointing the rifle forward. His stomach gurgled painfully, bubbling, and he groaned softly, sweat beading in his mask and dripping down his neck. Trembling briefly, he peeked around the corner, prepared to have his head shot at by some sort of firearm.

 

“Oi! Hermano! Pass me another, will you?”

 

“You ain’t driving like this, you know? If you damage any of that shit in the back...”

 

“Nah, nah, we’ll be good to go. We just gotta drop it off, and we’ll be perfect, hermano.”

 

God...when was the last time he felt this afraid of snooping around? The churning in his stomach, the tightening in his muscles, the frantic breaths he took...he felt like a young cadet again.

 

Rushes of adrenaline pumping through his veins brought him back to the days of himself as a young agent of Overwatch, just starting fresh after the gene therapy. Partnered with his superior, with Gabriel Reyes, they were finally given an official job that had real weight to it, not just some bullshit errands…

 

_ Jack’s foot brushed against the duffel bag stuffed underneath the chair in front of him, his body twisting and leaning against the arm closest to the window of the train. His chest was tight, his stomach in knots, and his breathing was slow and shallow, blue eyes trained on the scenery flying past as the cars barrelled down the tracks. _

 

_ He ran his fingers through his fluffy blonde hair, shaking his head a bit to try to clear his senses from the paranoia and anxiety he felt. His body still felt stiff, still recovering from the gene therapy all those months ago, his muscles tight as he shifted and moved his body. Streams of sweat fell down his skin, droplets building up in the collar of his shirt and the ends of his sleeves, and he rubbed his palms against the back of the seat in front of him. They left stains in the fabric in front of him, and he grimaced, looking away. _

 

_ No longer were they mere lab rats, little boys that were sent on easy missions just to see what they were capable of. No, now they were Overwach Agents, real, full fledged Overwatch Agents, sent on a mission with real worth and real weight. To prove that they were worthy, and that all of these drugs pumped into their bodies to change and alter their physiques were worth the time, money, and effort. _

 

_ It was an order by their superior, for Jack to accompany the older veteran Gabriel to the depths of Route 66, plagued by gang violence and weapon trafficking. Having not had their faces plastered all over yet, and being rookies was paying off, resting on the train that was suspected to be victim to the Deadlock’s Gang’s next strike...no one recognized them, allowing them to slip undercover as mere passengers. _

 

_ They were sent out to purge the little towns of the gang running rampant...they would be heroes. _

 

_ A dissatisfied grunt, and Jack shook his head, rubbing tiredly at his face before falling back against the cushions, his eyes squeezed shut. Feeling Gabriel’s hand suddenly grip his fingers, he startled a moment, blinking his eyes open to stare at his companion, greeted with his comforting smile and warm presence. _

 

_ “Hey.” Gabriel soothed, running his thumb against his knuckles, and raised his hand, pressing a kiss to the man’s fingers before letting his hand in his grip rest against his cheek, his smile widening ever so slightly. _

 

_ “Hey.” Jack snorted softly, an exhausted, weary look to his features, his fingers twitching against the man’s dark cheek. _

 

_ Gabriel tilted his head slightly, then laughed softly, smiling rather fondly at the other man. “Listen. You gotta calm down, ok, bud? We’re gonna be fine, we’re gonna be safe. Please. I’ve done worse in the army. This is just...busting up a few punks.” _

 

_ He snickered quietly, pressing his lips to the man’s hand once more, smiling behind his knuckles, his dark eyes alight with love for the man, looking at him with warm intentions. He squeezed his fingers, nodding slowly. _

 

_ “We just have to do what we always planned to do, yeah?” _

 

_ A wider smile spread across his lips. _

 

_ “You do the shooting, I’ll be your shield. Nothing can hurt me, and you hit like a goddamn truck, anyways. We’ll be an unstoppable combo! It’s what we always agreed, and time to show off the tricks we can do.” _

 

_ Quietly, Jack began to laugh, chuckling very softly and stroking his fingers against Gabriel’s cheek. Smiling warmly at the other, he gave a small little nod, his shoulders becoming lax as he leaned back against the back of the seat. The tightness in his stomach and chest began to loosen, his entire body cooling from the wound up heat within him of anxiety, the laughter that left Gabriel’s lips calming him down. _

 

_ Gabriel kissed his hand one last time, before lowering his hand back onto his lap, patting his arm gently as he straightened himself back in his seat. His head fell back and his eyes flickered shut, chest rising and falling gently with each slow, precise breath. _

 

_ “Just take a deep breath Jack, ok? We’ve done hell of a lot worse. This is our big chance to prove ourselves to them, prove that the millions of dollars they pumped into us was worth it, yknow?” _

 

_ His shoulders rolled in a slow shrug. _

 

_ “If I’m going to climbing up in the ranks, we need to impress. I know we will Jack. We’ve worked our asses off. We’re damn super soldiers now! The odds are in our favor, we have the lucky draw!” _

 

_ That smile was still present upon the man’s lips, a content, comfortable look to his features, especially as he leaned over and patted Jack’s thigh once more. _

 

_ “Just a bunch of gang members we need to teach manners to, Jack. We have this in the bag.” _

 

_ Jack raised an eyebrow at that, tilting his head a bit. “You seem confident.” _

 

_ Gabriel sneered a moment, turning his head to raise an eyebrow at his partner, that smile spreading back across his lips. _

 

_ “Please. I grew up in California, not a cute little farm like you, Jack.” he hummed. “I had to fight for myself, and everything and anything I believed in. Gangs were everywhere where I grew up. So I fought back and rebelled against their institutions. It wasn’t for me. That pack mentality...nah. I couldn’t deal with it.” _

 

_ He smiled a bit. _

 

_ “Gangs...they’re a bunch of cowards that group together. ‘Cause they have no one else to support them. That’s what these guys are. But we’re better than them.” _

 

_ Jack’s smile faded a moment, and he nodded severely. “Of course we’re better than them! I’m nothing like those low lifes!” _

 

_ “Yeah. We are. But do you know why?” he raised an eyebrow, leaning over the arm of his seat to grin over at his companion, patting his cheek gently. “Because we have a better support system. Don’t you forget that, alright, Jack? We have each other, and that’s not going to change. What we have here...is better than a child’s fascination with a gun, and with power. We have respect, and we have a courage within us that they don’t have.” _

 

_ He leaned over, pressing his lips against the other man’s soft mouth. _

 

_ “Don’t let this scare you. Even if we get separated, I’m always with you, alright? Remember that. This gang...they’re a bunch of punks, thinking they’re the toughest shits they are. I’ve seen scarier things in the slums I grew up in. But ah...I got nothing to be afraid of, not when I got you by my side, Jack.” _

 

_ Gabriel laughed, a sound that melted Jack’s heart. _

 

_ “We’re super soldiers. We can take down a gang, easy.” _

 

A gang...that's all they were. A bunch of young punks, swaggering through the town, controlling the people with a power they didn't earn, a fear they couldn't handle. He'd purged areas of gangs before...this ragtag group settled in Dorado wouldn't be a problem for him.   
  
Especially not when they had what he wanted, what he’d slaughter and kill for.

 

When he had Gabriel’s life on the line.   
  
The laughter of the three drunken men filled him with rage, eying them as they drank from beer cans, hanging out and leaning against the same truck they had escaped in. The cans crunched as they threw them in the side with the rest of the trash and garbage, their bodies flung against anything to support them. The truck, the wall... Faces flushed with alcohol, their movements sluggish, their gestures exaggerated...their confidence was ridiculous, believing they had the right to steal liquor from the stores and nurse it until their bellies were swollen with the poison. Nothing could touch them, even as they hooted and hollered into the night sky, their tattoos glowing faintly in the darkness.

 

Jack wanted to crush their bones until they did not resemble a human body any longer.   
  
He moved with a ferocity akin to an animal, a roar of pure rage and violence leaving his throat. A predator, preparing to sink claws into the soft flesh of his prey, holding no mercy as he fired, the bullets piercing the first man he locked into his sight’s brain. While the other two individuals reeled and screamed with terror, he snatched a young man with long hair, smashing his face sharply into the brick wall nearby. There was a sickening crack and blood smeared on the surface, the man slumping down as soon as he was released from Jack’s hold.   
  
His blood boiled, his breaths coming in sharp gasps, the pain in his stomach burning. The man felt like gagging, his vision swimming as he lumbered forward, firing his gun with shaking hands. Everything was shivering, disgruntled growls leaving his throat in warning, coughing fiercely into his mask. His breath smelled of rot, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe, suffocating, feeling as if he were trapped within the grips of Gabriel reyes, choking upon the man’s dissipated body.   
  
Fueled completely by the adrenaline pumping in his veins, he moved with a pure unaltered rage, despite his bodily sicknesses. He stumbled, struggling to keep them down as he moved, swiping his rifle diagonally up to smash into the face of a young man who charged towards him, attempting to knock him off balance. He felt hard resistance as it hit the man's jaw, blood from broken teeth splattering on his gun, and his body moved relatively smoothly, a fist colliding with the man's throat. Hearing the gurgles and gasps for air, he squeezed his neck, before throwing him against the truck. The entire vehicle moved with the force, and Jack turned, counting the men quickly.   
  
Three down...how many were left...? There had only been three, hadn't there been...? Yes, that's right...he had only seen three...orange, green, and purple. No other colors...did he do it? Was he safe? Oh god, he was going to throw up, he thought, leaning against the trunk of the truck as he gasped for air, knees knocking.   
  
It was hard to be a threatening, menacing force when his body refused to work properly and cooperate. His gloved hands gripped tight to the edge of the trunk of the truck, his gaze falling to the cargo within the back. The Overwatch logo plastered upon the boxes and crates caught his attention, and he stared, his eyes widening.   
  
So he hadn’t been too late, then. These idiots had been slacking, and hadn’t delivered the packages just yet. While they had been getting drunk and wasting time, it had given him enough time to scramble back here and finish the mission.

 

The information he needed so desperately for that meeting with Gabriel coming up...was before him. 

  
The man shook his head, gritting his teeth. Slowly, with heavy steps, tJack moved, pushing himself forward and hobbling closer towards the front of the truck, stepping over the unconscious man he had whacked with his rifle. His fingers slid against the worn paint and metal of the vehicle, each step of his heavy boots unsteady and shaky. Nearly did he drop his gun when his grip slackened just a bit at the sudden rush of dizziness, and he rounded the front of the car, heading to the driver's seat.

 

He couldn’t stop now.   
  
The rifle was thrown in the passenger's side, the man grunting as he pulled himself in. He coughed and wheezed once more, grimacing as he gripped tight to the steering wheel, his head slowly lowering and falling forward enough to rest his forehead against the wheel. The beans and rice felt disgusting in his belly, rumbling and attempting to crawl back up his esophagus, burning his chest. It felt as if his stomach were to burst open if he breathed in too deeply, unable to take a deep breath from the brutal bloating taking up too much space in his abdomen. His headache was pounding, as if someone took an ice pick to it and was dragging it across every wrinkle in his brain. With a racing heart that beat too fast, the rhythm painful, he gasped for air, the mask providing very little ventilation to help ease the pain.   
  
The key in the ignition was turned, the car roaring to life. Focusing his strained eyes on the road before him, he slammed the truck into Drive, the vehicle lifting off the ground once the hovering contraptions were activated. With one last glance over his shoulder, he smashed his foot on the accelerator, and the truck barreled down the alley and disappeared around the bend of a building.   
  
He'd have to move quickly. Get the documents he needed and ditch this place. The reminder of Gabriel Reyes needing his help kept him awake long enough to drive, heading towards the exit of Dorado and into another town. Desperately he prayed that something here had the clues he needed to the man's condition, to answer his questions, and maybe as to why the man revolted so terribly against the organization. 


End file.
